The D Files: Dryden's Story
by Ron and his Sakura
Summary: Dryden's POV. Vignettes on the upbringing of Dryden Fassa and his interactions with the Aston girls. Prequel to Asturia: Love and Duty. Ch 5, part 2: Marlene's Last Night in Asturia
1. Age 8: Annette

__

Girls are fun.

Most times the other boys don't think so. They say they're too worried about getting hurt, keeping clean, and looking pretty to really be that much fun. I agree with that. But, there's something indescribably satisfying about hearing a girl shriek when a prank has gone just right. It's still fun when it's a boy, but it pales in comparison with a girl's squeal. A boy's yell isn't nearly as anguishe

My quill scratched dry on the parchment. Automatically, I dipped the pen into the inkwell on my desk. Unfortunately, I was so eager to continue writing that I used much more force than was necessary, jabbing the pen rather than dipping it. Ink flew, and the small glass bottle tipped, partially emptying its contents before I could right it. 

I sighed. Splatters of black peppered my face, hands, shirtfront, and desktop. Not only had I managed to make a mess, I had also managed to dent the pen tip. Wiping my stained hands on to my trousers, I squinted at the damaged quill ruefully as I tried to decide if it was salvageable. At least the pages of my book had managed to escape the spray of ink.

I was scanning my crowded desktop for a cleaning rag to wipe things up when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in," I replied without bothering to look up.

"Well, you're not going to have much of a profit margin if you keep that up. The ink costs alone--"

A tall girl in her late teens leaned casually with her arms crossed against the door frame. Brown eyes twinkling in amusement, she grinned at me.

"Nette!"

I bounded over the piles of clutter on the floor and catapulted myself into her arms in welcome.

"Ooof-- getting a bit heavy there, Denny."

"It's so good to see you! When did you get here? Where've you been? How long are you staying?"

"Whoa, whoa, one question at a time." Nette smiled indulgently at me and pinched my cheeks, which she knew I hated. I didn't mind though. Annette was by far my favorite cousin, and it was always a treat to be around her, especially since she was traveling more frequently for longer durations now.

We were Fassas -- a family of some importance. We lived in Palas, the capital of Asturia, which had been home to the Fassas for several generations. Ours was a merchant family, one of hundreds of mercantile families, conglomerations, and networks located in the city, which was known all around Gaia as THE center of commerce. However, our family had an international presence that, as my father often liked to say, "eclipsed the competition." Although we were headquartered here, we also had trading houses and offices all over Asturia and in most major cities outside the country as well.

One of the reasons for our success was strong family ties. Another was that the family had been blessed with sharp, bright sons with an almost inbred instinct for business and beautiful, talented daughters, who became the pillars of society. Between the ingenuity of the Fassa men and the influence of the Fassa women, the family fortunes grew exponentially as each generation passed.

By the time I came along, it was pretty much established that any male born into the Fassa household was destined to take a role in the mercantile business. By age 15, we were expected to be ready to participate in the family business. The early years of our careers would be spent traveling the various trade routes of our import/export business and rotating through the family's trading centers. Hundreds of miles and years of experience later, each man would settle down to take ownership in a particular trade route or office, with the most talented, influential, and experienced ones located in the capital.

As for the girls, they would be groomed from a very early age to be major actors in the stage known as high society. All variety of tutors and teachers were lavished upon the Fassa daughters to mold them into ladies unsurpassed in wit, charm, style, and grace. They were well versed in art and philosophy, knowledgeable in history and culture, had impeccable taste, and had keen insight into the intrigue that always played in the shadows of the spotlight.

"What the--Dryden Fassa! You are getting ink all over me!" In my excitement, I had forgotten about the black stains on my hands and clothes. Nette's voluminous brown merchant's robes bore dark smudges from my greeting.

I was immediately contrite. "Ooops...sorry, Nette, it's just I was so glad--"

"That's OK," she said, waving off the rest of my apology. "It's been awhile since I got this old thing cleaned anyway." It was true. The fabric was dusty and smelled of pack animals and spices, sawdust and smoke--smells of travel, smells I loved.

As with any rule, there is always an exception. And in our family, Annette was just that--though technically she was a Callen and not a Fassa. Her grandfather, Grigorio Fassa, a first cousin to my grandfather, had been a brilliant businessman, who was characterized by a domineering manner which manifested itself in all his relationships, public and private. He demanded loyalty and unquestioning obedience. Therefore, he did not take it too kindly when his only daughter, Nette's mother, rejected all of the suitors he had handpicked for her in favor of a son of a small-time contractor. When she eloped, Grigorio immediately disowned her.Despite his wife's and three sons' efforts to mollify him, the old man was hard and unrelenting in his decision. However, three years later, he suffered a staggering blow. A merciless group of bandits attacked a leviship port in Daedalus. It was a disaster. Tragically for Gregorio, his three sons were caught in the slaughter. They were killed along with their wives and all their children. Gregorio's wife collapsed upon hearing the news and died two days later. Utterly bereaved, he suffered a near-complete emotional breakdown. 

A week later, he received word that his daughter was also dead, a victim of an epidemic in the village where she had relocated. The illness had also claimed her husband, but her child Annette, hitherto unknown to him, had survived. 

Gregorio lost no time in locating the orphan and obtaining legal custody of his remaining descendant. The moment he first laid eyes on her and took her into his arms a remarkable transformation took place. The man of iron melted, leaving in its place a loving, doting grandfather. It was as if all the affection that he had dammed up and denied his family over the years burst out to be lavished upon this one last precious grandchild. Gregorio all but retired in order to devote his full attention to his new charge. Annette, for her part, adored her grandfather. He was her world, and the two were inseparable. 

As she grew older, her curiosity was piqued by the business that so dominated the family's affairs. When she asked Gregorio to teach her about what her boy cousins were learning, he readily agreed, as every Fassa had to have at least a rudimentary understanding of the family's livelihood. However, her unflagging interest and her aptitude for the material made it clear that this was more than just a passing fancy of hers. Although it was unusual for a girl to want to delve so deep into the subject, he was delighted. His work no longer consumed his life as it once had, but the mercantile business was still a passion of his, and he was pleased that his granddaughter shared that passion. Eventually, he taught her everything he knew, not an inconsiderable amount by any means. 

When Annette came of age, she made up her mind that she wanted to follow in her grandfather's footsteps. The roles of patroness of the arts, socialite, and philanthropist which the other Fassa girls chose were simply not for her. Her grandfather, who could deny her nothing, supported her in her decision. Though he had his concerns, he was proud of the talent he saw in his grandchild and wanted to see her fulfill her potential. So, a week after making an obligatory appearance at Palas' debutante ball with the other 15-year-old maidens being introduced to the Asturian elite, Annette Fassa-Callen and two of her male cousins boarded a leviship to begin their training in the Fassa mercantile business. 

Needless to say, Annette caused a stir in the Fassa clan. Opinion among the women were mixed. The men, however, were nearly unanimous in their dislike of the breach of tradition. However, Gregorio, who held considerable influence in the family, saw to it that Annette was not unduly harassed and received the same treatment and training as her peers. 

Now, it was pretty much accepted that she was in the business and she was there to stay. Though most of our uncles disliked acknowledging her presence among their ranks, they were businessmen first and foremost and begrudgingly recognized her contributions. Father was of the opinion that Nette was daft, and would isolate me from any knowledge of her if he could. However, Nette was a favorite of my mother, who encouraged our interactions. 

"Come here." She whipped out a kerchief and began to wipe my hands and face vigorously.

"Ow, hey! Not so hard!"

"Wouldn't have to if you were neater with your writing. Good night, Denny! What kind of merchant are you going to make if you can't even write properly? Any self-respecting merchant worth his weight is always ready to make a good impression and that's not going to happen for you if you're always ink splotching your sleeves black."

"Hmpf--wouldn't be a problem if the sleeves weren't so big and loose. Why do we have to wear such a floppy thing anyway?"

"Oho! Denny questions the practicality of the esteemed habayah. Maybe this will convince you," Nette replied, stepping out of my doorway and into the spacious hallway. Lifting her arms gracefully, she pirouetted swiftly, once, then twice. The folds of her robes flared out, billowing in the air. As the fluttering fabric fell back into place, I saw that she had rotated back to face me with a purse, her passport, a dagger, and a scroll, all of which she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, in her hands.

Impressed, I clapped my hands.

"When you're out in the world, you've got to be prepared and ready," she declared with a showman's air.

Personally, I liked Nette, and I was glad she liked me. I was 8, an only child, and I had no agemates within the Fassas. All my cousins are either infants or older by 10 years or more. Babies were okay, but I couldn't really play with them so that left me with my older cousins. The men were kind of dull. They just liked to eat, smoke, and talk about making money. The women were a little more interesting. Sometimes they would accompany Mother and me to the bazaar, a literary meeting, or a concert. But Nette was the most fun. She was a great storyteller. I loved hearing about all the places that she traveled to with our cousins. She regaled me with vivid accounts of the different people and customs they encountered. Hearing her talk, in contrast to the men, one would think that she had been sent to a completely different place than they had. Plus, although she had a no-nonsense attitude towards work and held to high standards, she had a goofy side as well, and she did not find it beneath her to joke and play around with me. 

"Nette, show me how to do that," I begged, as she bowed with a flourish.

"Hmmm.... perhaps. However, a little bird told me that you were in deep, deep trouble, and perhaps not deserving of such an honor," she replied, tapping me rather sharply on the head with her passport. 

I grimaced. Oh yeah... that. I stared sheepishly at my shoes.

" I come here to finish up some business with your father and hoping to have a nice visit with you and Aunt Cassia, and find him--I've never seen anyone so angry! Denny--I'm almost afraid to ask--what on Gaia did you to do to get him in such a state?!"

Despite the reprimanding look she gave me and my bruised backside, still smarting from my father's belt, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I relayed to her what had happened earlier.

* *---***** 

"Hey, look! It's out! It's out!"

"It's funny looking. I'm not so sure that--"

" Will you hush up and wait!? It's spent the last few weeks cooped up in its cocoon so of course it's going to need a moment to--"

"Hey, Dryden! Take a look at that!"

"Indigo... I do believe those are wings!"

"Butterfly!"

"No, Millerna. Don't grab at it--you'll hurt it!"

"Butterfly! Butterfly!"

"Well, that does it. If Millie says it's a butterfly, it is a butterfly."

We were in Tanglewood. It was a vineyard on the outskirts of the capital that served as a retreat for the royal family. An invitation had been extended to me and a few other children, and we had spent the week there with the princesses, their aunt and uncle, and their two cousins.

The six of us gazed, spellbound, at the butterfly that had just emerged out of its cocoon and was spreading its colorful wings for the first time. Well, five of us were gazing at any rate. Indigo looked more like she was sulking. 

One of the best things about being tutored with Princess Eries and her cousin Indigo was that I had access to the Royal Libraries. And it was at the Royal Biology Collection that I found the tome describing the transformation of caterpillar to butterfly. I was so intrigued that I was determined to find a chrysalis so I could watch the butterfly emerge from it when I came out here to the countryside.

My agemates were naturally curious what I came back from roaming the garden with five specimens that I was certain matched the illustrations in my book. Indigo had taken one look at the brown, shriveled up pods and sneered at me. She didn't think it possible that anything as beautiful as a butterfly could come from something so unsightly.

Most of the time I got along just fine with Indigo, but she had a tendency to be bossy and put on airs--you would think that she was the princess instead of her cousins. It irked me to have her deriding me on no basis other than her sensibilities. We squabbled fiercely. Eries, Trevor, and Thor, not sure of whom to believe, kept out of it.

Over the last few days, I kept watch over the cardboard box holding the five very dormant chrysalises. And as the days passed, Indigo had become progressively more and more biting in her remarks. I had nearly despaired that the butterflies, if they indeed were there, would ever come out. 

However, this morning I was finally justified. I awoke to find four of the cocoons empty, and one just starting to emerge. Luckily for me, the time it took to wriggle out was more than enough for me to gather the others so that we could witness its emergence.

The butterfly pumped its gorgeous, iridescent wings slowly, eliciting excited shrieks from Millerna, who was squirming in Eries' arms. After a minute, it flitted up into the air and through the open window of the guest room I shared with Trevor. "Too bad Marlene couldn't have seen it," said Eries as it winged its way out of sight. Yesterday, Lady Miriam had taken the older children with her to Dunhaven, which was holding its yearly wine festival. We younger children had been left behind supposedly under the supervision of Prince Nueva, who remained sound asleep despite all the racket we had made that morning. Lady Miriam and company were to return later today so that we could depart for Palas together this afternoon.

I turned my gaze over to Indigo, who was chewing on her lower lip. She hated being proved wrong. However, if she was to be the "lady" she aspired to be, she was going to have to apologize graciously to me, and we both knew it. I flashed a triumphant smirk. The others quieted down to watch our exchange.

"Well, Dryden, I guess you were right about butterflies coming out of--those things," Indigo said huffily, waving towards the now empty brown casings.

If she thought she was going to get off with just that, she was completely wrong. "And?"

"And I apologize for saying all those things about you being a dummy and a stupid-head," she mumbled.

Not good enough, I thought. I was about to press on for additional retribution when Thor piped up, "Hey Dryden, what's that?" He pointed to the biology book that I had brought with me. I had left it open to the page on the metamorphosis of butterflies, but he was pointing to the page opposite it.

"That's a tadpole," I replied.

"What pole?" asked Thor, who was only looking at the illustrations and completely ignoring the text.

"Not a _pole_. It's a tadpole. See, that's its name right here," I explained, pointing at the words. "Or you can call it a polliwog."

"Who's Polly? Looks like funny fish." To say that Thor was as dumb as dirt would have been a horrible insult--to the dirt. And it wasn't just that he had trouble reading either. Things had to be explained to him several times before it would finally "stick" in his brain. This disparity between us was a never-ending source of frustration for our tutors; on one extreme were Eries and myself, who were leaps and bounds ahead of other students our age, and on the other end of the spectrum was Thor. Despite his academic shortcomings, he was extremely good-natured and easy tempered, and it was impossible for any of us not to like him.

"Tadpoles are not fish," I replied and launched into a short and simple explanation about the life cycle of frogs. I liked learning, gathering information and reading through books, but I liked being able to pass it on to an interested audience even more. 

"And so," I concluded, "you can't always assume a creature is going to have the same characteristics all of its life. Tadpoles can only swim, but when they change to frogs, they can be on water and land. Just like caterpillars can't fly until they become butterflies."

"Well," sniffed Indigo, "at least caterpillars change into something pretty. Tadpoles change to frogs, but frogs stay ugly frogs after that."

My eyebrow twitched slightly in annoyance--she always did have to make some comment even if it provided no added value to the conversation. The fact that I hadn't completely forgiven her did not help. But her words sparked a brilliant idea into my head—for revenge.

"True, true--for most frogs anyway..." I replied mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" asked Thor..

I lowered my voice so the others had to lean in close to listen. "Last night, I was in the villa library, and I found this old book about the history of this valley. Turns out that a long time ago, there was a witch --"

"Witch?!" echoed Trevor.

"Yeah, an EVIL witch that had all sorts of magic powers. She waged a war against a king from a far off country. After many battles, the king, his son, and their knights were finally able to vanquish the witch's army. At the last minute, the witch escaped and went running from the battlefield. But the prince saw her running away and pursued her."

"What happened?" asked Trevor excitedly.

"The prince chased her for days across rivers and forests." The other children, even Millerna, were completely spellbound. Even I was getting carried away by my own story. "Finally, the prince cornered her by the Scythe Crags." 

"Ssss--whaa??" Thor's tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"Scythe Crags. That's the name of those rocky hills that come right up to the edge of the vineyard." 

"Go on, go on," prompted Trevor, eager for the rest. He thrived off these types of stories. Trevor's granduncle was a Knight Caeli, and his father was part of the king's honor guard. Trevor had every intention of following in his family's proud tradition. When he wasn't playing at swords, he was learning about the ideals of chivalry and hearing about the lore of knights. He was eating up my story like chocolate covered ice cream. 

"Without anywhere to run, the witch made her last stand against the good prince. The final fight was fierce and the prince defeated the witch. But not before she was able to cast one final curse on the prince." 

Slowly and dramatically, I declared, "The witch turned the prince into a frog." 

"EWWWW!!!" My audience gasped in unison. 

"Yes," I continued, heaviness in my voice. "The brave, handsome prince was turned into a frog. Although you could tell him apart from the other frogs because he had a crown-shaped yellow marking on his head (he was a prince, after all). Plus, he could still understand people even if he could only croak." 

"It was devastating for him. He was a hero and a monarch, yet he was trapped in the body of a small, slimy animal. He was driven into the depths of despair. A few days after the final battle with the witch, he left his retinue and disappeared into the woods because he was too ashamed to stay with people." 

"That's so sad..." said Indigo, despondently. After a pause, she snapped, her brown eyes darkened to nearly black with anger, "Why are you telling us such a sad story, Dryden!" Indigo was the type of person who liked her stories romantic and with the ending "happily ever after." 

"Wait, wait--I'm not done yet! Days after the prince disappeared, a good wizard who was familiar with all sorts of magic learned about what had happened, and he declared that there was a way to turn the prince back into a man. When the king heard that, he sent all his men back to search for his son--" 

"--but he was nowhere to be found." 

"Dryden, that's STILL awful !" Indigo wailed. 

"I'm getting to the best part. Listen!" Despite her annoyance, she complied. "After I read that, I remembered that earlier that day, when we were swimming with Prince Nueva, I could have sworn I saw a frog--with a yellow crown mark on his head!" 

Suddenly everyone was speaking excitedly at once. "The prince!?" "Duh! What do you think?!" "All right!" "Oh!" "So we can find him and change him back!" "Let's go!" "Wait! We don't have a wizard. We can't change him back." 

"We don't need one."

The other children looked at me quizzically. "The wizard said that the way to break the spell and turn him back to a handsome young man was if a beautiful lady were to kiss the frog prince." 

Silence. 

Honestly? Yes, I had been reading an old book from the villa library last night. And it told about a frog prince. However, it had been a book of tales from the Mystic Moon, and not a book on local history. I had merely edited it a little to suit my own purposes. As for the yellow crowned frog, I had seen it as well--it was just one of several species of frogs that inhabited the villa pond. It was a detail I was certain I could get away with. I doubted that Trevor had ever seen a frog up close. He had been traumatized by a near drowning incident when he was a toddler and had a intense phobia as a result. He took great pains to distance himself from any and all bodies of water. It was so bad, he would only step into a bathtub if it was half full or less. Thor simply was not a details type of person; even if he had seen a frog with a yellow crown on its head, I doubt that it would be filed away in his memory. As for the girls, they were too skittish around creepy, crawly, slimies to ever really study them. 

This was the turning point, whether or not they would fall for my frog prince fabrication or not. For me to say something was from a book was persuasion enough for Millerna and Thor. Trevor was all pumped up and ready to run out and aid his fellow crusader against evil. Indigo was not quite as enthusiastic. She was vulnerable to romantic fantasies, but she seemed slightly uncertain. Probably because of the frog kissing part and probably because the story was coming from me. However, if all the others believed it, Indigo would fall into line as well. If not, my attempt to get back at her would fall flat. 

That meant that the linchpin was... 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said Eries. "It's a rather forward way of introducing yourself to someone, but if he's likely to propose to you anyway..." 

"Hey, who said that you were going to kiss him!" Indigo exclaimed indignantly. 

A brief catfight ensued. We boys held our tongues as Eries and Indigo argued heatedly over who was most worthy to kiss the frog prince. It ended with an angry "FINE, you kiss him!" from Eries. 

Giddy at the prospect of freeing a handsome prince from a magical spell, Indigo yelled, "C'mon, let's go!" She and Trevor charged out for the pond with Thor close behind. 

Eries followed albeit more slowly. With her aunt and Marlene away, she was responsible for Millerna, whose short legs hindered their pace. I lagged behind on the pretense of helping Millerna negotiate the flight of stairs to the ground floor, but I had seen the look on Eries' face after Indigo, Trevor, and Thor had dashed out. I could tell that Eries wasn't disappointed at all. With Eries holding one of Millerna's chubby hands and me taking the other, we slowly went down the stairs step by step. 

"' History and Legends of the Mystic Moon' doesn't sound like your type of book," murmured Eries as we descended. 

I puffed out my chest. "I like to think of myself as a Renaissance man, a man of all knowledge--you never know what kind of information might come in handy," I said, grinning. Eries pretended to be seized by a sudden set of coughing to hide her laughter. 

"So what's your story Eries?" I asked. "I thought for certain that you would let the cat out of the bag if you suspected."

"What cat?" piped Millerna. 

"Dryden's just talking silly, darling. Don't pay any attention to him." 

We reached the bottom of the stairs and released Millerna to scamper after the others. Once she was out of earshot, Eries said quietly, more to herself than me, "It's bad enough when Marlene calls me that horrid name. I don't see why Indigo has to start, too." With that she set off after Millerna. "Hurry up, slow poke! We've a prince to find!" she yelled.

I was surprised. Unlike me, Eries was not inclined to participate in any sort of mischief. Her calm temperament and responsible nature saw to that. Normally, anyway. "I guess even Eries has her moments," I thought as I raced to the pond. 

The "horrid name" she was referring to was "Elf." Not a particularly bad name. The other boys and I have called each other much, much worse. However, coming from a sister like Marlene and a cousin like Indigo, I could see how much that would wound. Marlene and Millerna had inherited Queen Therese's flawless features, and Lavender and Indigo had inherited Lady Miriam's equally remarkable beauty. The four cousins were like a stunning set of golden- and ebony-haired porcelain dolls. And then there was Eries. In their company, she looked painfully unremarkable. Well, not completely unremarkable. Her ears were pretty big for her thin, angular face. It was pretty obvious why Marlene used this particular word when she completely blew up at her younger sister. 

I felt a twinge of sympathy for Eries. But I also made a mental note to exercise extreme caution if I were ever to try to pull the wool over her eyes. What she didn't have in looks, she more than made up in intelligence and perception. She was the most likely to see through any prevarications I could conjure. 

By the time I reached the pond, Thor had already stripped down to his knickers and was wading into the pond. Trevor hung back on the bank of the pond, but to his credit, he was much closer to the edge than he had ever ventured before as he scanned the rushes and lily pads for signs of the yellow-crowned frog. Indigo had settled onto the grass. She was preening herself, rearranging the pink velvet bows in her long raven hair and adjusting her frilly, lacy linen dress in anticipation of her introduction to her prince. Eries was preoccupied with keeping Millerna from following Thor into the pond.

I tossed off my suede jerkin and linen shirt, unbuckled my heavy leather shoes, yanked off my striped socks, and rolled up my trouser legs as far as they would go.

"Any sign of him?" I yelled as I stepped into the cold water.

"No. I don't see—wait!" Thor suddenly plunged into deeper water. His bright chestnut head dipped briefly underwater and then he surfaced, sputtering, "I saw him, I saw him!"

"Where?!"

"Good job, Thor!"

"Froggy! Froggy!"

"Millerna, come back here!"

I smiled. This was going to be fun.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Ten minutes later, Thor and I pulled ourselves out of the pond, with frog in hand. Although Thor was much stronger and a better swimmer than me, he lacked the finesse necessary to capture the amphibian, and I was ultimately the one to make the catch. As Thor and Trevor whooped triumphantly, I pulled a clean handkerchief from my jerkin pocket and wrapped the frog in it. The others gathered in close as I approached Indigo and, kneeling before her, presented the frog as grandly as a jeweled crown.

Indigo's brown eyes widened slightly. I could tell she was having second thoughts. Quickly, before she could voice her indecision, I announced like a herald at a ball, "My prince, may I present to you the lovely and virtuous Lady Indigo, who will free you the malevolent spell that has bound you all these years."

With an introduction like that, Indigo couldn't resist playing her part.

She took the frog from my hands.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

The shriek of dismay that followed was pure music to my ears. It was indescribable, that smug feeling of ultimate satisfaction.

Pity it only lasted about a split second.

Aghast at the realization that she had just laid lips on a disgusting frog, Indigo flung the hapless animal away from herself and , screeching and sobbing, started running for the villa. Unfortunately, in her haste to retreat, she slammed right against Trevor, who lost his footing and fell—right into the pond.

From the way he howled, you would have thought he was in hot lava instead of water.

Meanwhile, the frog had flown—right into Eries' left eye. I don't think I'd ever heard such a horrified sound from Eries before. Although the impact was enough to blacken her eye, the frog amazingly landed unhurt and retreated for the relative safety of the pond, as Eries collapsed, sobbing, onto the grass.

Despite her older sister's obvious distress, Millerna deemed it more imperative to give chase to the frog. With shrill cries of "Froggy! Froggy!" she-- shoes, stockings, pinafore and all-- followed the creature right into the pond.

Bewildered by the combination of Millerna's delighted squeals, Eries' sobs, and Trevor's screams, Thor looked at me, uncertain of what was happening and not knowing what to do next.

Oops….

I guess this is what they mean by getting more than you bargained for.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*'

Nette's expression was a bizarre mixture of mirth and horror as I concluded my narrative. She gaped speechless at me for several moments and then closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Denny, Denny, Denny--" she murmured in disbelief.

"What?! What?! I know it was bad of me to make up the story, but it wasn't like I threw the frog at Eries. And if Trevor just had had enough sense to STAND UP—" Nette cut off my protests with a wave of her hand.

Eyes still closed, Nette pressed one hand to her forehead, "And what exactly happened to you afterwards?"

"Well, Prince Nueva switched me. Then when we got home, Father let me have it."The lashes on my rear end stung at the memory. "Then I got sent up to my room to think about what I'd done and no supper to boot." I paused and thoughtfully added, "I probably would have gotten a lot more if Mother hadn't stopped him."

She gave me a piercing look. "You should be grateful she did. Even now, I don't think he's calmed down. Aunt Cassia sent me up here partially because Uncle Meiden isn't in a mood to see anyone and partly because she wanted someone to check and see if you were ok." A corner of her mouth twisted wryly. "From the looks of it, I'd say you haven't been thinking very hard at all about what happened." She lightly whacked me again with her passport.

"I have so! I even WROTE about it. Wanna see?"  


I scurried over to my desk to show Nette the words I had penned. Mother had given me the red, leather bound blank ledger to record my thoughts and ideas. She believed strongly in the power of putting words to paper –- that it strengthed resolve and clarified direction and intent -- and impressed that strongly upon me.

Hands on her hips, Nette growled at me. "Denny, I respect every person's right to organize their space in the manner they so choose but the LEAST you can do for a visitor is to leave a clear path for her."

"Whoops! Sorry!" My room WAS a bit of an obstacle course. Mother and the head housekeeper had long since despaired of trying to bring any order to my personal space. I moved a globe and a stack of books, tossed some stuffed toys onto my bed, kicked aside a pile of winter clothing, shoved boxes of schooling supplies away, and relocated my geode collection to clear a path for Nette to get to my desk. 

She settled into the chair and began reading. Her brow furrowed as her eyes skimmed over the words. Then for some reason, Nette started trembling. It took me a few moments to realize she was shaking with suppressed laughter. She motioned for me to close the door, which I did immediately. As soon as it clicked shut, she let out a guffaw. "Denny, Denny, you are just too much," she gasped out between giggles. 

Her laughing fit ended quickly and was replaced by an air of seriousness. "Denny, come here." 

I clambered onto her lap, and we looked at each other eye-to-eye. She tapped the page with a finger. "Dryden Fassa, let me give you a bit of advice. If you want to get as old as me, make sure your father never, ever sees this."

I wasn't planning on showing it to him but I didn't see what the big deal was. "Okay, but why not? It's the truth."

"It's quite apparent that it's the truth. But you have to know when to say things and you have to know how to say them. Otherwise—Dryden do you even know why your father is so upset about what you did?"

I shrugged. "When he found out, he said--" I took in a deep breath and roared, "DRYDEN FASSA, YOU'LL BE THE DEATH OF ME!" Nette raised an eyebrow at my imitation of my father's bellowing. 

"Then he said a whole bunch of other stuff, but he was whipping me then so it was kind of hard for me to understand." I concluded.

Nette studied me for a moment as if gauging my reply. Finally, she said, "Denny, you're so bright sometimes it's hard for us to remember that you still are just a kid. You don't have a clue to you?"

"About?"

In a brisk, schoolmarmish tone, she suddenly queried, "Denny, what's 13 x 13?"

"169," I answered straightening up in her lap.

"What's the current interest rate on the Palas market?"

"5.9%"

"Who's the current King of Fanelia?"

"King Goau." This was easy.

"Spell privilege."

"P-R-I-V-I-L-E-G-E."

"Why is it that you're tutored with the Aston girls and you get to go on holiday with them?"

That stopped me in my tracks. I'd never really thought of it. And I never really thought there had to be a reason for it. I was stumped. "Umm...because I have no agemates in the family and …tutoring us together is cheaper?" I guessed.

"Dryden, Dryden…" Nette shook her head; smiling sadly at me. "You know so much, so many… facts. And that's good, but sometimes it is more important to know why things are the way they are, why things are happening. Do you know what your Father wants? Do you know why he does what he does?"

That was easy. "Father wants money. He's a merchant, and that's what merchants do --make money." That's all he talked about, and it seemed like that's all he did.

"Well, that's partly true." Nette's tone was dead serious now. "He does want to be the wealthiest man on Gaia. But it's not just riches he's interested in. He's also interested in power now. And, " Nette said, frowning slightly, "Uncle Meiden is the type of person to use everything in his power to get what he wants."

"Including you, Denny."

I sat silently on Nette's lap as I mentally digested her words. Nette tousled my curls gently and said, "If someone's using you, you should at least be aware of it so you can decide for yourself if you want to go along or not."

"But how am I supposed to give him power?"'

She gave me a look that was almost condescending. "Denny, do you think just anyone gets schooled with the King's daughters and nieces? Don't you think it's interesting that Thor Julian's father is the biggest landowner this side of the Chatal mountains? And that Trevor and Haim Kester are related to some of the most prominent commanders in the military?" Nette continued, rattling off the prestigious backgrounds and bloodlines of the children I was schooled with at the palace.

It must have been apparent from my expression that those thoughts had never crossed my 8-year old brain. Nette sighed heavily. "Ok, I'll be very clear with you, Denny. Your father went through GREAT PAINS to arrange for you to be tutored and have playtime with the little friends that you have. BECAUSE they are the children of IMPORTANT people, and the probability of a child of an important person becoming IMPORTANT is VERY HIGH in Asturia."

Things were starting to make a lot of sense now.

"So he wants me to know them and be friends with them so I'll be important. And because I'm his son, that'll help him."

"Yes, I do believe he is finally catching on!" I scowled grumpily at her teasing tone. Nette chuckled and said, "Denny, there's a phrase: it's not what you know, but who you know. It's not an absolute rule, but trust me, much of what you're able to do will ride on more on your connections than solely on facts and figures."

"So I'm just another way for him to make more contracts," I said, peevishly.

"No, not just that." Annette paused as if briefly wondering whether she should continue or not.

"What?!"

"He wants you to marry one of the princesses and become King."

"WHAT!?! THERE'S NO WAY-"

"Shush, Denny. Not so loud."  
I immediately quieted down. But I was still confused and shocked by her statement. "Is he crazy?" I hissed.

"Crazy? No. Ambitious? Yes. Denny, do you remember how Queen Therese passed away last year?"

I nodded. I did remember. It had been awful, everything draped in black, dirges, and mourning for a week. Millerna just an infant so she didn't really understand, but it had been weeks before Eries and Marlene joined in on our games again.

"Since she died, King Aston hasn't made any indication that he's even remotely interested in remarrying. That means that one of the girls you're playing with will become queen one day. King Aston will probably announce his choice of heir within the year. Whoever she is, she's going to need a husband. If she follows in tradition, it'll be an Asturian husband. And your father is hoping it'll be you."

"But I don't wanna marry a girl! I mean, I don't hate them --most of the time, I guess. But I don't wanna do that icky, kissy, smoochy stuff with them!" Scenes from last time Indigo, Marlene, and Eries had dragged us boys into playing "house" with them flashed through my mind.

"Denny..."

"If I have to get married, I'd rather marry you, Nette! At least you won't make me call you "sweetie-dumpling" and make me bring you flowers and drink tea with my finger sticking out--" 

Nette nearly fell out of the chair laughing. "With a suave proposal like that, there's no way any woman in her right mind would be able to resist you, Denny! But I must decline. It's a scientific fact that if you marry your cousin, you wind up with kids with 10 heads." Nette stated with authority.

"EYAA! REALLY!?"

"No, I was just kidding. But kids from cousin marriages do end up pretty weird, and the two of us are strange to start off with. There's a reason why family trees branch out and not intertwine."

"But why do I have to get married at all? And why can't father just leave me out of this?" I whined.

Nette patted my head sympathetically. "It may be hard for you to believe this now, but in a few years you'll probably be looking at those "icky" girls a lot differently." She ignored the skeptical glance I shot at her. "As for your father, well, there's nothing really you can do about him trying to orchestrate your future to suit himself. However, there's a lot you can do to assert your own agenda for your life. But any decision you make does have its consequences." I looked askance at Nette. She was speaking from experience there.

When Gregorio passed away two years ago, there were attempts to discourage Annette from the trade circuit and convince her to agree to a marriage that would be beneficial to her and to the Fassas as a whole. However, Annette proved herself tenacious and steadfast in her desires to stay in her career. That combined with the fact that she was as talented, if not more so, than her peers kept her from being removed. 

However, there had been a price. Because of her unconventional occupation and her lukewarm support from the Fassa patriarchy, the heads of other prominent families had labeled Nette an eccentric and therefore unmarriageable. Even though she was the sole heir of Grigorio Fassa's massive estate, her propescts for marriage were not bright. I had heard my father muttering once that she did it on purpose because she disliked men.

"Do you want to get married, Nette?"

My question startled her, but she recovered quickly. "I don't need to get married, but I'm not against it." I gave her a puzzled look and she explained, "It's not that I hate the idea of having a husband and earnestly just want to be alone the rest of my life. But I'm not going to marry someone who cannot accept me for who I am. Until I find that person, I'm fine as is, and if I never find him, that's okay too. I won't settle for less."

Brushing a few errant strands of her thick mahogany hair away from her face, Nette shifted her gaze from me up to the open window beyond us. My room was on the fourth floor of my father's house, which meant it commanded an unobstructed view of the ocean. The evening seascape framed by my window was breathtaking. She stared thoughtfully for a few long moments at the brilliant pair of moons hanging above the water before she spoke again. 

"People get married for different reasons. Grandpa married because he wanted heirs. My parents married for love. Our uncles wanted me to marry to strengthen business partnerships for the family and probably to get me out of their hair to boot," she said with a harsh laugh. "Your father wants you to marry for power. But it's up to you to decide for yourself it that's what you want marriage to be for you. Just remember what I said though—whatever view you choose, there are benefits and consequences."

"And who you choose to marry will affect you for life."

I didn't like the sound of that. I also didn't like the thought of my calculating father manipulating my future. "Why do I have to think this stuff now?"

Nette smiled encouragingly at me. "Denny, you don't have to. Just be aware that there is a lot more to your group of friends than you thought there was and keep it filed in the back of your head. Enjoy your childhood, enjoy playing with your friends. Who knows? Maybe you'll become more attached to those girls than you think." I screwed up my face. "Or maybe not," she amended. "But when the time comes, and you know what you want, be ready and be prepared because you will be making the choice of a lifetime."

I sighed, slumping against my cousin. She patted me gently on the head, but it did nothing to dissipate the anxiety I felt welling within me. I simply could not imagine being joined – for life – to any of the princesses.

It was completely implausible to me. Most of the time Marlene merely tolerated me. From the way she glared at me when I pointed out errors in her logic or schoolwork, snapped at me when I was lax in my manners, or stumbled over my feet in dance lessons, I got the feeling she viewed me as a kind of smart-alecky, pesky, younger brother. I doubt she'd be pleased at all to be paired with me. When it came to boys, the beautiful, elegant, oldest princess much preferred the company of boys like Haim, Trevor's older brother, who was more handsome and athletic and who never misstepped during a dance, nor went out of his way to cause trouble.

I liked Eries, and she got along with me, but then again she seemed to go out of her way to get along with everyone. Academically, she was a match for me. We often found ourselves study mates as we delved deeper into advanced study material long after our agemates had tired of it. The difference though was that I was genuinely interested in a deeper understanding whereas Eries was doing it because she felt she had to. She was always preoccupied by expectations and traditions and roles and things-that-must-de-done. It contrasted sharply with my own personal agenda, which placed a very high priority on fun. Sometimes she unnerved me with her seriousness.

And Millerna, well, she was barely more than a baby, and more of a hindrance than a playmate. According to Eries, Millerna was currently going through a phase where everything was fair game for being declared hers. I had been the victim of one of her annexations, too. She'd taken the pen knife from my bag while we were at Tanglewood and refused to give it up. It had taken an hour and the combined efforts of all the Aston girls to get her to relinquish it without inadvertently slicing her in the process.

None of the three sisters was a very appealing option to me. Maybe if I was fortunate, my father's scheme would not come to fruition. So I wouldn't have to worry about girls…


	2. Age 10: Lavender

Sorry this took so long. By all rights, this should be two, maybe three, chapters. Unfortunately, we had to keep it one LONG chapter due to our chapter title scheme. Please enjoy and send a review!  
  
We forgot to include this in our first chapter: standard disclaimer applies. We don't own Escaflowne or any of the amazing characters from that anime. However, Annette, Trevor, Thor, Indigo, and Lavender are figments of our delusional imaginations.  
  
Date posted: January 1, 2004  
  
Exquisite. Beauty beyond description.  
  
A vision of milky white and muted gold. The sight set my heart racing. I was speechless.  
  
Eagerness barely restrained by the bounds of etiquette, I acted.  
  
My fork sliced through the alternating layers of cream, cake, and fruit filling and delivered my mouth a bite of confectionary bliss.  
  
Umm… so good... so delicious...  
  
It was even better than I had hoped. My tongue wrapped itself around the delectable morsels, savoring every taste and texture. I closed my eyes to better focus on the glorious sensations in my mouth.  
  
If my mouth was not already occupied, I would have waxed rhapsodic in epicurean rapture.  
  
A giggle pierced into my consciousness. I cracked open one eye to spy Indigo and Eries watching me with amused expressions. "Really, Dryden, control yourself. You look like you're about to undergo a transfiguration," observed Eries dryly. Indigo tittered delicately into her lace napkin.  
  
Under normal circumstances, such a comment would have initiated a battle of barbs between myself and the second princess of Asturia. However, I was too enthralled to be bothered. Besides, I could not be inciting the ire of the hostess who had provided me with the source of my euphoria, could I?  
  
Sweets were my weakness. My mother indulged me in many things, but sweets, of any kind, were not among them. A few years ago, my father was diagnosed with a health condition which precluded him from consuming all but very minute amounts of sugar. In turn, he, in his infinite wisdom, determined that if he could not have any sugar, neither could anyone else under his roof. As a result, candy was contraband in our household. Meals ended with slices of cheese and bland fruit. I counted myself fortunate on those days that piscuss was not included in dessert. Perhaps if I didn't have cravings for refined sugar, it would not have been such a big deal. But I did. I loved it all--hard candies, ice cream, cakes, pies, cookies, chocolates. The mere mention of such treats was enough to start me drooling.  
  
Given my routine of family meals and functions, tutors, and apprenticeship sessions, the opportunities for me to access any of these sweet delicacies without being intercepted by a disapproving guardian were few and far between. Therefore, any time a promising chance to attain these delights presented itself, I pursued it with all seriousness.  
  
'Nette could well attest to that. She was my chief smuggler, and she was amazingly adept at it. One time she spirited a berry tart right into my room. Despite the fact that she had to hide it under the folds of her habayah, she delivered the delicate treat with nary a bruise on it.  
  
However, she never did it for free.  
  
I felt that she took a perverse pleasure in exacting her fees. And it never was as simple as currency, which I had plenty of. One time, she had me polish all the tarnish off of a trunkful of antique Daedalus knives for a raspberry buttercream trifle. On another occasion, I mucked out all 10 stalls of her stable. Hard work, but the blisters were well worth the reward, a large box of expensive Egzardia confections . Another opportunity arose during a visit to our cousin's to see her new infant twins, Johann and Johanna. I made some offhand comment--something about boys not needing to learn how to babysit because, after all, child-rearing was solely a female thing. 'Nette had raised her eyebrows at that and challenged me to change the twins' diapers all afternoon in exchange for some goods. The candy won out over my pride. I must say I was dismayed at all the talc and pins and cloth and learned quickly that you have to be extra quick when diapering a boy child. But I swiftly got the hang of it and left with a bag of ambrosial Chingre caramels and a better appreciation for the work that nannies do.  
  
Occasionally, I, being a merchant, would try and barter with 'Nette. I did not get very far though. It was a seller's market, and she knew it. But it was all right. 'Nette's tasks were never as awful as I thought once I got the hang of what I was doing. And in the end, I always got what I wanted. 'Nette, though she would laugh as I labored, always kept her end of the bargain and occasionally threw in a little extra with a wink.  
  
However, when she was away on business, my opportunities all but dried up. My chances were limited to the very unlikely event I was fortunate enough to attend a tea or party without a Fassa chaperone shepherding me away from the dessert tray.  
  
Today was one of those rare occurrences. Our weekly dance class had been canceled. Lady Miriam, who instructed the class of young blue bloods, had had an abrupt change in schedule due to the early arrival of a Zaibach envoy. As the only adult female member of the Royal House, Prince Nueva's wife was the "Lady of the Castle" or, to put it in simpler terms, chief palace hostess. As such, Lady Miriam had more important things to deal with that day than to watch a bunch of youngsters stumble across the dance floor. So it was that when my fellow students and I arrived in the ballroom we used for lessons, we found nought but a note that declared that the day's lesson was canceled.  
  
I, for one, was glad at being spared at least one afternoon of mincing about the ballroom. I had mixed feelings about dancing. While the exercise was nice and I enjoyed the chance to tease the girls, half the time I spent tripping over my own limbs. I was in the midst of a growth spurt that had me fitting for new trousers every month. I was all arms and legs, and sometimes it did not seem as if I had any control whatsoever over my gangly body. While I certainly was not above poking fun at my own lack of grace, I unfortunately had a propensity to crash into other dancers and take down three or four victims with me. The ultimate result would be mayhem in the ballroom, the onset of a migraine for Lady Miriam, and, more often than not, the roughing up of my person by irate classmates.  
  
Upon learning the class was canceled, several of my classmates left, having better ways to spend their unexpected three hours of leisure time than staying at the palace. However, the rest of us lingered, turning what was class time into a social hour. Eventually, the princesses decided that the thing to do was to play along and act as hostesses. Princess Marlene took the older children with her to view the new goldfish the groundskeepers had procured for her private garden. As for me and my agemates, Princess Eries invited us to join her for refreshments in one of the palace courtyards. Naturally, we all accepted her offer. The chance to just sit and visit (with pastry to boot!) was just too good to pass up.  
  
I was so intent on favoring every minutiae, every molecule of my cake that I was only halfway through my slice by the time Trevor and Thor had gobbled through theirs. (The spoiled louts! Look at the size of those crumbs left on their plates! What a travesty!)  
  
"Thank you very much, Princess Eries," Trevor said suavely, the very model of a gallant in training. "That was delicious. We don't get food like that at the Squire's Mess ever."  
  
Eries beamed. "You're very welcome, Trevor. So tell me, what kind of slop do they subject you poor fellows to at the Academy?" At that point, even I diverted some of my attention from my food to the conversation as it turned towards Thor and Trevor's new place of training.  
  
Recently, our paths had diverged. Last season, Thor and Trevor started training at the Squire's Academy. The schedule there was fairly rigorous, and now they only appeared at the palace for etiquette and dance classes, which were tightly sandwiched between their Academy activities. As for me, I continued to be tutored in a number of subjects with Eries and Indigo. However, more and more of my time was spent at the Fassa business center where my apprenticeship was beginning.  
  
The more I listened, the more envious I became. It sounded like a high time, at least the whooping and riding and tearing-up-and-down-fields and making a huge sweaty mess of things part did. It certainly couldn't be worse than spending hours with a gaggle of grumpy and grouchy old men, whose greatest pride were their immaculately maintained accounting ledgers. Their strategy and history courses sounded very similar to tactics I was learning, with the amendment that the goal was military, as opposed to monetary, conquest. I began to wonder if perhaps it might not be too late for me to steer my fate away from the world of trade....  
  
"And Thor," said Trevor, clapping a hand onto Thor's shoulder," is really coming into his own at the Academy." Embarrassed, Thor ducked his head down.  
  
"You don't say?" Indigo replied. Our collective interest rose up a notch. Thor? Setting the bar? This certainly was an interesting development. "Tell us more."  
  
Thor's typically ruddy complexion progressively darkened to the color of a well cooked lobster as Trevor divulged the details of his achievements at the Academy. How he was the quickest to master each new skill set the weapons instructor introduced. How he had impressed the riding master with his horsemanship astride the most ornery beast in the Academy's Stables. How no one in their age group, and only a few of the second-year students, could best him at swords. "He's having a bit of trouble in the tactics and history classes, but the other lads and I are helping him with that. He might not ever be a strategos, but give him a set of plain directions, and he'll come through right certain,eh Thor?" Trevor smacked Thor heartily on the back and received a shy smile in return.  
  
Thor looked like he was smothering underneath Trevor's copious accolades and our approving looks. He had never much been on the receiving end of praise, and now that he had finally won recognition for something he did well, he seemed at a loss to how to respond to it. From the way he was fidgeting in his seat, he looked ready to implode any minute from nervous energy.  
  
One bite left. Almost reverently, I swallowed my last scrumptious morsel of cake. I sighed. My plate could not have been cleaner if I had licked it. Too bad there wasn't any chance for seconds.  
  
My mouth now freed for conversation, I finally spoke. "Hey Trevor, Thor, why don't the two of you give us a demonstration?"  
  
"That's a great idea," Indigo seconded.  
  
Thor seemed a little startled at first, but then smiled eagerly at the proposition. It gave him a reason to leave the table and not have to stammer replies to the girls' various queries about his feats at the Academy.He always did prefer action to conversation. Excusing himself, he left his seat to fetch his bag of training equipment.  
  
Several minutes later, the girls and I were on the courtyard lawn watching Thor and Trevor swing their swords, each attempting to disarm the other. After numerous parries and thrusts, Thor's weapon, in a swift, graceful move, twisted Trevor's sword out of his grip. The wooden sword spiraled into the air and landed with a clatter onto the marble patio.  
  
The girls and I applauded.  
  
"Nice job, Thor," cheered Eries.  
  
Indigo and Eries were impressed. So was I, but I felt something else as well. Before I realized what I was doing, I jumped to my feet and headed towards the two boys, who were discussing the details of their match.  
  
"Dryden, what are you doing?" Indigo called after me.  
  
Ignoring her, I marched right up to Thor and Trevor and asked, "Can you show me how to do that?"  
  
They grinned widely, delighted at my interest. "Sure!" replied Trevor.  
  
Moments later, I was stepping awkwardly in Thor's practice boots and trying to imitate Trevor's movements. The shoes I had worn to the palace for the dance lesson were completely inappropriate for sword practice according to the other boys. So Thor, whose shoe size was closest to mine, had loaned me his practice boots. Unfortunately, they were a little cramped and pinched me as I tried to mimic Trevor's lunges.  
  
"See ? Now you try it."  
  
"OK."  
  
SWOOSH!!!  
  
"HEY! Watch it!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Dryden, have I told you that you're hopeless?"   
  
"Yeah, about 15 times now. So shut up and show me that again."  
  
"OK. But this time, pay attention."  
  
"I am!"  
  
"No, no, no, don't hold it like that. It needs to be higher."  
  
"Like this?" I shifted my stance slightly.  
  
"No, like this." Thor began readjusting my pose. It became clear that there was a lot that needed adjusting. Thor's hands were firm and sure, and I meekly acquiesced to his guidance. Our eyes met briefly in mid-correction, and we laughed. Trevor was right; Thor had come into his own. There had been countless times where I was the one instructing Thor, explaining things, and pointing out details he had missed. Now, the tables were turned, but I was very glad to hear the confidence in my friend's voice as he led me through the basics.  
  
Meanwhile, we were providing ample entertainment for the girls. They were alternating between whispering to each other, glancing at us, and giggling behind their hands.  
  
"Hey Trevor!" Our heads turned as one to see Haim approaching, his own bag emblazoned with the Academy Seal slung over his shoulder. Apparently, the older children had finished with their socializing in Marlene's garden and were dispersing. He waved impatiently to his younger brother. "What are you doing? We need to go! Hurry up and don't forget to thank the princess."  
  
"Awwww--Haim, just a few more minutes," Trevor whined. "We're showing Dryden how to spar."  
  
Haim was floored. "You're showing who how to do what?!"  
  
My introduction to swordplay was becoming quite the attention-grabber. Not only did the number of my instructors increase to three, but our audience grew as well as Lavender and Princesses Marlene and Millerna joined Eries and Indigo on the lawn to take in the sight.  
  
I suppose it was a spectacle. Bookish Dryden Fassa never did do anything even close to fighting. Merchants simply did not wield sharp, pointy objects any larger than pens. And if that wasn't enough, my overprotective, gentle mother was loath to include me in any overly strenuous or athletic activity which might cause me bodily harm. The closest I ever got to fighting were the impromptu games of knights and pirates at Tanglewood where we boys used sticks and rods in imaginary duels over our fair damsels.  
  
But the sticks I'd used before were a far cry from the sword I now held in my hand. Although it was just a practice weapon, the grip resembled that of an actual sword, and it had a weight and a balance to it that none of my pretend weapons ever did.And our juvenile slashing and waving were truly child's play compared to the movements my companions demonstrated.  
  
After presenting the most rudimentary repertoire, they offered me an opportunity to put it into action. Knights-in-training use numerous exercises, ranging from the disarming game, which Trevor and Thor had demonstrated earlier, to "cat and mouse," a timed exercise where one duelist is limited to offense while the other is limited to defense. The game selected was one of the simplest ones. The object: be the first to strike any part of your opponent's torso. As I was a complete novice, they leveled the playing field by limiting moves to those which I had just learned.  
  
As Thor was without footgear, I alternated between sparring with the two Kester brothers. Even having their skills set reduced to my elementary ones,they exhibited a finesse that impressed me even as I lost time and again. I did not mind losing though. Despite the occasional bruising blow, it was great fun. Plus, my matches lasted longer and longer as I learned with each successive duel.  
  
"Do you want to take a breather? I can take a turn against Trevor and we can show you some more moves." Haim asked, as he helped me to my feet after defeating me handily for a third time.  
  
It was obvious why he was asking. Whereas the two squires had hardly worked up a sweat, I was winded. I had tossed aside jacket and cravat after my first match. My shirt clung damply to my skin, and a sheen of perspiration covered my face and neck. However, I wasn't ready to step down yet.  
  
I shook my head. "Don't know when I'll get to do this again or if I'll get to do it again so I want to make the most of it while I've got the chance."  
  
"As you wish." He grinned, pleased at my determination. "Trevor! You're up!"  
  
Trevor and I faced off, saluted, and readied ourselves on opposite ends of the marble patio. At Haim's signal, we rushed full tilt at each other. The impact resounded in the courtyard. Our weapons locked . For several moments, Trevor and I struggled with all our might, each trying to get the upper hand . With a great shove, Trevor forced our blades apart, sending me backwards several steps. I recovered just in time to block Trevor's slash towards my middle.  
  
Block, parry, thrust, dodge. All my attention was focused on reacting to Trevor's attacks and the split-second opportunities to counterattack.  
  
Somehow, I defended off a series of blows from Trevor with enough force of my own to put him uncharacteristically off-balance. Seeing my chance, I charged.  
  
Adrenaline surged through me at the thought of finally besting my opponent. However, at the last possible moment, he neatly sidestepped my attack and tripped me.  
  
My momentum sent me tumbling end over end on the paving stones. Although I was disoriented by his counterattack, I was determined not to let the match end right there. Gamely, I hung onto my weapon as I rolled out into a more or less crouching position. Staying low, I used to my free hand to help me instantly pivot about to face Trevor. Gathering myself, I prepared to return to the fight.  
  
I lunged --  
  
--and tripped over my own feet.  
  
My impact against the unyielding patio surface knocked the wind out of me. I was vaguely aware of the sound of laughter and then Trevor's voice asking me if I wanted to continue.  
  
I was about to answer him, to tell him that I was fine and that the match was still on, but as I started to get up, I was instantly aware that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.  
  
With an effort, I rolled myself awkwardly onto my side. I looked down and froze. My sword was embedded in my right calf.  
  
I had been careless. And clumsy.  
  
Later, Haim and Trevor pieced together what had occurred. Following my unsuccessful charge on Trevor, the tip of my wooden blade broke off as I tumbled over the pavement. However, in the heat of the fight, neither of us even noticed. Under normal circumstances, what followed would have injured only my pride. I sprang up with the intention to leap back into battle, but the combination of ill-fitting footwear and plain lack of coordination sent me crashing immediately down again. Because I was woefully unprepared for my fall, I failed to keep my weapons clear of my own leg. Whereas the rounded surfaces of an undamaged practice sword would have simply slid off the surface of my skin, the jagged broken edge proved to be quite proficient at penetrating into my flesh.  
  
I stared.  
  
It was eriee. I was not screaming. I was not panicking. I was not horrified. I knew it was not a Good Thing to be bleeding heavily with an object protruding out of my body, but I felt strangely calm. I felt separate from my body as if I was observing something happening to somebody else somewhere else.  
  
Fascinated, I watched the blood pooling into patterns onto the smooth surface beneath my leg as if it were a piece in a contemporary art exhibit.  
  
The dark liquid against the snow white marble was quite mesmerizing.   
  
"Cool effect," I thought.  
  
My reverie was shattered by a strangled noise. Distractedly, I turned my head to see Trevor completely aghast. With his eyes open wide and his mouth opening and closing the way it was, he rather looked like a fish out of water. I felt the urge to snicker and poke fun at his expression--  
  
I stopped myself. I really had to be out of my mind if I was lying here bleeding all over the patio and the only thing I could think of doing was jest at the expense of my concerned friend.  
  
Perhaps, because of that, I found it oddly comforting that my friends were behaving exactly as I would have predicted in an emergency even if I was not.  
  
Beyond Trevor was minor pandemonium. Indigo had taken one look at my impaled leg and began emptying her lungs at top volume. Princess Marlene, on the other hand, had simply fainted, very neatly, princess-ily, and might I add, quite conveniently, into the arms of Haim, who was right beside her. The alarmed squire frantically set about reviving the unconscious damsel. Lucky her that it wasn't Thor that was standing next to her. He would have just let her drop. Like Trevor, he stood transfixed by the sight of my injury, horrified and not knowing what to do. Meanwhile, Eries, though she had turned three shades paler, was not about to give way to hysterics. It wasn't in her nature. She intercepted an over-curious Millerna, who was completely perplexed at the behavior of the older children and trying to get a better look at the cause of the commotion. Stammering out something about getting help, Eries gathered her skirts and ran in the direction of the palace physicians quarters with Millerna in tow.  
  
I found it reassuring that at least one of the Aston girls was not completely useless in an emergency.  
  
Turned out Eries was not the only one...  
  
"Lie back." Firm hands pushed me down and slipped something beneath my head to cushion it.  
  
I looked up.  
  
Lavender?  
  
Prince Nueva's elder daughter was studying my wound with intense concentration. Well, she looked like she knew what she was doing. Which was a good thing because my own concentration was starting to waver.   
  
She started talking to me. It sounded like a lecture, but for some reason, it was becoming harder and harder to understand her. I finally gave up trying to figure it out. Her words became as the lazy drone of flies in my ear--  
  
"EYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"   
  
Pain ripped through my abused leg. Instantly, I was awake again. Tears stung at my eyes.   
  
It became painfully clear what she had been lecturing about. In order to effectively tend to my wound, she had had to remove the sword. Earlier I had been so focused on my fight I had been near oblivious to its introduction to my leg. But I was all too aware of it upon its departure. If I had felt like I was disconnected to what was happening before, I was more than making up for now.   
  
Lavender cast aside the sword and began addressing the blood flowing freely out of my leg. Despite the splotches and stains of scarlet rapidly accumulating on her once-neatly pressed yellow linen frock, she remained unruffled and business like as she worked.  
  
The same could not be said of her sister.  
  
The sight of Lavender pulling a bloody object out of me had managed to unhinge Indigo even further, if such a thing were possible, and she reacted by redoubling her volume.  
  
"Indigo, will you please shut it!" Lavender snapped as she juryrigged her dress' embroidered silk sash into a makeshift bandage. "I can't hear myself think."  
  
Either she did not hear Lavender or was too far gone to comply because there was no indication of her ceasing.  
  
Lavender made a disdainful noise as she struggled to apply pressure to my wound while elevating my leg. "Thor!" she barked.  
  
Her call immediately brought Thor out of his trance. "Yes, ma'am!" The way Thor replied I would not have been surprised if he had snapped a salute. He sounded more than eager to have someone decisive give him orders.  
  
"Take Indigo and get her out of here now!"  
  
"Where--"  
  
"I don't care! Just somewhere where I don't have to hear her!"  
  
"Yes, ma'am!"  
  
"And Thor--"  
  
"Yes?!"  
  
"Calm her down and don't leave her until she's calmed down."  
  
"Yes, ma'am!"  
  
As Trevor said earlier, given a set of plain directions, Thor came through right certain. In a few seconds, the sound of Indigo's screaming faded off in the distance.  
  
A wave of nausea passed over me. This was awful. My leg wracked with pain, and my breath came in ragged gulps. The pale green sash that Lavender was using to stanch the wound was swiftly being dyed red. The sight of it made me dizzy. Despite myself, I began to whimper.   
  
Lavender looked at me sharply, quickly taking stock of my overall condition. Concerned shadowed her features as she mentally apprised the situation.  
  
"Trevor!"  
  
At the sound of his name, Trevor jumped. Up until that moment, he, like Thor, had stood rooted to his spot, until activated by Lavender's crisp command. "Yes, Lavender," he said, hurrying to where she kneeled awkwardly, applying pressure with both hands.  
  
"I need your help. He's bleeding pretty heavily. I need you to..." With Lavender parceling out instructions to Trevor, the two of them shuffled around me to switch places.  
  
The dizziness increased. I decided to stop fighting the dark waves buffeting my consciousness and let my eyelids droop. After all, Lavender and Trevor seemed to have the situation under control, and Eries would be back soon--  
  
"AYAGH!!! WHAT YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"  
  
Panic flooded through me at the sensation of hands pressing along my groin uncomfortably close to--  
  
"Calm down!" Lavender yelled. "Quit thrashing around! I can't stop the bleeding with you moving around like that!"  
  
Her entreaties did little to allay my panic, and it took a minute for them to force me still. But, though I had ceased struggling, my emotions were far from settled down. Added to my physical agony was complete mortification at having someone feel around in that region of my body out in the open. Lavender finally found whatever she was looking for and pressed hard against my groin.  
  
It took a lot to embarrass me, but this certainly did it. With her hand where it was, it was impossible for me to look at her. Or Trevor either for that matter. I did not even want to know what he thought of what was happening. I turned away, trying not to think about the whole humiliating situation.  
  
"Marlene? Marlene, thank goodness."  
  
My head flopped to the side just in time to Marlene revive from her fainting spell. She stirred feebly on the grass. Haim, who had spent the last few minutes attentively calling her name, chafing her wrists, and whatever else it was that gentlemen did for fair maidens who passed out, was babbling to her in relief.  
  
"Haim, what happened--?" Marlene asked faintly. Struggling up to sitting position, she made the error of looking in my direction.  
  
The sight of me lying on the ground with Trevor uncertainly gripping one blood covered limb and her cousin's hands pushed deep into my crotch was probably a little too stimulating for the delicate princess' sensibilities.  
  
Marlene's pretty lavender eyes rolled back into her head as she lost consciousness for the second time that afternoon.  
  
"My sentiments exactly, Marlene," I thought.  
  
I'm never touching a sword again.  
  
"... and so the Ispano left the terra firma of Gaia. They departed in great floating fortresses for a place said to be of Gaia, yet not of it. With them went the technologies and arts entrusted to them by the Atlanteans…"  
  
Eyes half closed, I allowed my mother's voice, soft and sweet, to surround and comfort me like the warm, peach-colored blankets we snuggled in. My lax body leaned against my mother's shoulder. I was content to cuddle , listening to her narrate through the history of Gaia, watching the graceful way her lovely, tapered fingers fluttered across the yellowed pages, feeling the occasional brush of her red curls against my face.  
  
I adored my mother. Although I had a definite mischievous streak, in her presence, I always tried to to be a good son. In that respect, I had failed stupendously with my swashbuckling misadventure. The hurt look of disappointment she gave me after learning how I had been injured was worse than any reprimand she could have dealt. But she also knew I was contrite, VERY contrite and knew better than to make the same mistake twice. So she spared me lectures and instead adopted a coddling mindset.   
  
Once home, Mother installed me into the guest room that was adjacent her bedroom and canceled all of her appointments for the next several days. That suited the servants just fine considering that navigating me and anything I might require into my own more crowded and cluttered room would have been substantially more difficult. That also suited me just fine. Typically, I would have stifled under this much maternal attention. Right now though, I was in a mood to be babied. (I suspected the painkillers I was taking probably were also contributing to my abnormally clingy state). Being closer to her rooms made it that much easier for Mother to check in on me throughout the day (and night). Also, my current quarters featured a bed wide enough to accommodate myself and Mother with room to spare, a stark contrast to my own narrow mattress.   
  
It had been years since she had read to me in bed like this. I did not realize until now how much I had missed it. As soon as I had managed my letters, Father, insisting that he did not want me made soft by my mother's attentions, put an end to my story time. However, Father was in Egzardia on business so mother was free to fuss and spoil me to her heart's content --or at least, until he came home. I was not looking forward to that. At best he would ridicule me for being a clumsy dolt, at worst...   
  
I shoved those thoughts to the far recesses of my mind and focused instead on the much more pleasant present. As I lay there, basking in the attentions of one parent and dreading the arrival of the other, I found myself marveling at the difference between them and wondering what my father could possibly have done to convince my mother to marry him.  
  
From the anecdotes and bits of information I had pieced from various relatives, Father had had plenty of competition for Cassia Nye's hand. Her family, originally lesser nobles of little renown, rocketed into prominence fifty years ago, when valuable metal ores, and more importantly, natural gas and energists, were found on the hitherto worthless swamplands that skirted their ancient family grain fields. Now, they were the most powerful Asturian family established outside of the capital. On top of that, Mother was a treasure in herself. Even without her family's immense fortune, she, with her beauty and charm, would have attracted beaux from all over Asturia.   
  
For many families, Father's pedigree and widely acclaimed financial genius would have been enough to secure him a position on the short list for Mother's hand. However, Grandmother and Grandfather Nye's criteria for a good match extended beyond making profitable business connections. They wanted to ensure their daughter's happiness, as well as her position and livelihood; therefore, she had a definite say in who her future spouse would be. That meant that Father and all the other young men interested in the young Lady Nye had to work at it. Despite the distance between their respective towns, Father would make the day long journey several times a month to join the parade of other suitors for her affection and the approval of her family. And when he was not there he would write copiously and frequently, sending his letters with all manner of gifts.  
  
Looking at them now, it was difficult to believe that Father was the same man who would spend hours in a parlor waiting his turn for chance to talk to Cassia Nye privately or climb through rows of thorny rosebushes to reach her window for an evening serenade.   
  
From all I had ever seen, Father was not very attentive to Mother at all. He traveled for business regularly, but even when he was in town, he busied himself with work and political functions and other "entertainments" that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. The only times he interacted with Mother was to discuss the reception of dignitaries and key professional associates at our home. Even in matters concerning me, Father demonstrated very little personal involvement. There was no doubt that the direction of my future was of great consequence to him. However the execution and details of my upbringing he left largely in Mother's hands.   
  
However, if Mother had any regrets about her decision to marry Meiden Fassa, she never showed it. Although her husband was largely absent from her days, she filled them by carving out a life of her own in the capital of Asturia. Growing up in a village whose only claim to national fame was the locally produced cheese which shared its name, she had always wanted to live in Palas. She loved people, being with them and getting to know them, and regularly attended social events and parties with my aunts. She was passionate about the arts and literature and was continually ushering into her parlors some young aspiring artist or writer to introduce to her friends and associates.  
  
Father did not share in her interests, but he did not discourage her from them either. For the most part, he gave her free rein to actively pursue in her projects and pastimes. Even if he considered most of those activities to be frivolous and a waste of time, he knew it was to his benefit to have such a popular and socially visible wife.  
  
His indifference towards her (and me) alternately irked and saddened me. For a man who spent much of his days assessing the value of goods and properties, I felt he greatly undervalued his wife's value and was not investing in her as he should.  
  
A knock at the door interrupted the flow of Mother's words. "Come in," called Mother, setting aside our book.  
  
I sat up eagerly, anticipating Nette's entrance. Two days ago, she returned from her last business trip just in time to receive the message from our household informing her of my injury. Since then, she had been visiting me between her shifts at the warehouse offices. Her company was greatly welcomed and appreciated. Without her distracting me and Mother nursing me, I probably would have gone crazy from boredom and discomfort.  
  
However, when the door swung open, it revealed not one, but three girls.  
  
"Dryden! Dryden! Show me your leg!"  
  
A blur of flying pigtails and lacy petticoats that was the next heir to Asturia burst into the room. I shrank back with an alarmed yelp. As I cowered against the pillows, Mother swiftly swept up out of the bed and planted herself protectively between me and the impulsive child hurtling towards us.   
  
Fortunately for both of us, Eries was faster than her sister and caught her in five quick strides.  
  
"Sister!" Millerna stamped her feet in protest. "Let me go! I wanna see! Father said I could!" To my relief, Eries held fast to Millerna's arm despite her protests.  
  
"Millerna!" Eries was not loud, but her tone was acid. Millerna stopped her squirming at once. Eries let out a long-suffering sigh. "Millerna, I never said you couldn't see Dryden, but you can't just barge in here like that." Millerna bristled under the reprimand, but, judging from the tightness in Eries' voice, Eries was too fed up with her sister to care. "It's rude. You haven't even greeted Lady Cassia properly yet. If you're going to be a lady, you must learn to act like one."  
  
Millerna screwed up her face. From previous experience, I knew that she was going to either burst into tears or have a temper tantrum right there and then. Neither boded well if news of it reached Father's ears. Mother and I were all too aware of Father's aspirations and knew that anything short of a happy, smiling Crown Princess within these walls would not be received favorably.  
  
"Now , now, Princess Millerna. We know you were just excited, but you should mind your sister,"said Mother soothingly, her skirts swishing as she glided over to the two sisters. She smiled warmly at Millerna. Fortunately, Millerna tended to be responsive to physically attractive people, and when she looked up at my lovely, elegant mother before her, Millerna's clouded face brightened.  
  
"How about we start all over again, dear?" Mother curtsied before the princesses. "Good afternoon to both of you, Princess Eries and Princess Millerna. And good afternoon to you also, Miss Lavender," she said, inclining her head in the direction of our third visitor, who had remained standing sheepishly in the doorway during Millerna's antics. Mother's gentle demeanor defused the situation, and the tension in the room dissipated.  
  
After going through the salutatory formalities, Mother invited our guests to have a seat and make themselves comfortable. Lavender did so, settling gracefully onto a divan at the rear of the room. Millerna, however, bounded towards me with a watchful Eries hovering close behind her.  
  
Millerna leaned up against the bed. "Dryden, might I take a look at your leg. Please?" Though her voice dripped syrupy sweet, her eyes glittered in a way that made me nervous. Her behavior a few minutes earlier added to my reluctance. Plus, her peculiar request confounded me. Visitors regularly inquired after how my wound with healing, but no one, save the doctors, demanded to actually see it.  
  
I shifted uneasily under her near predatory stare. "Wh-h-h-h-y?" I asked, stringing out that single syllable like an elastic band.  
  
Millerna grinned impishly. "Lavender said you cut open your leg and that the doctors had to sew it shut again! I wanna see what it looks like. Please?"  
  
Curious about my mangled leg... ri-i-i-ight.  
  
What kind of a weird kid was she?  
  
Maybe it was just a ruse. A ploy for revenge. She was trying to con me into exposing my most vulnerable area while I was down so she could inflict more damage on it. Like smack it or something. My painkillers were strong, but they wouldn't shield me from anything like that. My mind raced, trying to recall what I might have done to incite such malice.  
  
But if that were the case, I was sure that Eries would have suspected it, and I highly doubted that she and Lavender would allow such mean-spiritedness.  
  
Eyebrows raised, I threw a "Is she for real?" look over to Eries, standing vigilantly behind Millerna. Eries simply shrugged in response.  
  
I gave a resigned sigh. "OK, but you have to promise not to touch it."  
  
"OK!" Millerna replied with much more enthusiasm than I would have liked.  
  
Mother helped me pull the covers off, and I hiked up my dressing gown to expose the mass of bandages covering my right leg.  
  
"There you go," I said, feeling like a carnival attraction.  
  
"No, no, no, NO!" The ferocity of Millerna's outburst took me aback. "I wanna see your leg! Your leg! Take off the bandages!" She waved wildly at the offending strips of linen.  
  
"Take off the wha--?!" I stammered. Mother was visibly dismayed. I looked back and forth between Lavender and Eries for help. She couldn't possibly be serious!   
  
Eries placed her hands on Millerna's shoulders to calm her down. "Millerna," she said firmly. "Don't shout. And ask nicely." She then looked at me apologetically. "I'm sorry about that, Dryden. And yes, she does want to see your leg without the bandages. I know it's a lot of trouble, but would you please do that for her?"  
  
"Yes, she and the rest of us would really appreciate it," Lavender chimed.  
  
I had severe doubts about the wisdom of completely exposing my wound. Especially since there was a high probability of the capricious four-year-old getting over excited and conveniently forgetting her promise not to poke me. Mother seemed to be of the same opinion and looked as edgy as I felt. However, there did not seem to be any way out of it. She was the Crown Princess after all.   
  
I reminded Millerna of our agreement and after she promised a second time not to touch my wound, I asked Mother to come over and unbind the bandages . As the layers came off, I got the sinking feeling that I was about to become the princess' new plaything.  
  
In a minute, my leg was laid bare for all to see.  
  
It was not pretty. In addition to the wound itself, I also bore bruises and scrapes from my ill-fated afternoon of sparring. The best way to describe my leg would be a somewhat misshapen black, blue, and purple mass zigzagged with stitches and scabs. It also exuded a strong order from an assortment of powders and medicines that kept the wound clean and promoted healing.  
  
I thought that the grotesque sight would have been more than enough to sufficiently disgust the princess and bring an end to her curiosity. It certainly wasn't something I enjoyed studying at length.  
  
I was wrong.  
  
Instead of cringing, like Eries was, Millerna piped, "Wow, Dryden! How many stitches do you have? Why did they use black string? How long did it take to sew it up? What's that weird smell? Why is it oozy over there?" A deluge of questions gushed out of the diminutive princess.  
  
It's one thing to be forcibly put on display, but to be compelled to act as my own docent on top of that was asking a bit much. Fortunately, Mother stepped in to field the barrage of questions for me.  
  
"What a loopy kid," I thought, as their question-and-answer session went on and on and on. Mother was trying to quickly wrap up their discussion so that she could in turn wrap up my leg. However, every time she finished with an answer, Millerna peppered her with more questions. If the topic were not so personally demeaning, I might have been impressed by Millerna's determination to find answers and perhaps affirmed and encouraged her enthusiasm.  
  
"And what about--" Millerna reached out, her fingers dangerously close to my stitches.  
  
"Millerna!" Eries' arm darted out, snatching Millerna's hand away.  
  
Millerna was indignant. "What!? I didn't do anything wrong!" she protested.  
  
Eries' eyes narrowed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You promised Dryden not to get too close but you did." Millerna began a retort, but her sister cut her off. Huffily, she continued, "He's been very nice to do as much as he already has. Also, you have to learn to treat people with respect. Dryden's our friend, not some thing or some toy you can do whatever you want to with. And, on top of that, he's hurt. At the very least you should be considerate because of that."  
  
Millerna's frown deepened. She was not taking Eries' reproof very well. Sensing another impending clash between the siblings, I interjected, "Eries, it's OK. No harm done. Really." I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt. The last thing I needed was a scene in my sickroom.   
  
My words had minimal effect on placating either girl, but before things could escalate further, Mother spoke. "Yes, Dryden's fine, but it probably is time we wrap him back up again. It's not good for his leg to be out in the open like this for too long. Actually, it's about time to change the bandages and put on some more medicine. Millerna, if you would like, you can be my assistant. I can show you what we put on the wound and how I bind the bandages."  
  
Millerna's eyes went so wide I thought they were going to pop out of her head. "Really? Yay!"   
  
Millerna was fairly dancing as she followed Mother out the door to fetch the salve and fresh bandages. A weary Eries trailed behind them. I could hear their voices fading as they headed downstairs for the kitchen where the various drugs from the apothecary were stored and prepared.  
  
"Now, it's very important that everything is clean so we'll start by washing our hands."  
  
"Mine are clean, mine are clean! I already washed them."  
  
"Millerna, you haven't washed your hands since we left home, and you've petted two horses and a stray kitten on the way over here..."  
  
With a bedside manner like that, who needs enemies?  
  
I sighed audibly as soon as they were out of the earshot. Even though they would be back, I was grateful for the reprieve.  
  
"I am very sorry about that, Dryden."  
  
I started, suddenly reminded that there was still one other person in the room.  
  
Rising from her seat, Lavender moved closer to my bedside and settled onto the damask parlor chair that Mother had just vacated. The present contrasted sharply with the last time we were together. She looked a fright by the time the palace physicians arrived and took me off her hands. Her dress had been completely ruined by grass stains, smudges of dirt, and bloodstains. Even if laundry science could have removed the stains, various parts of the dress had been ripped off and torn to make makeshift bandages. Her hair was a complete wreck, having been hastily knotted and shoved down the collar of her dress. Though the knot kept the long strands from getting in her way, Lavender was a sight, loose strands sticking in every direction.  
  
Seeing her now, her thick tresses neatly brushed and plaited with a gaily colored ribbon interwoven between the lustrous strands and wearing a crisp white walking costume with matching lace gloves, almost made me wonder if she had been there at all.  
  
Her dark expressive eyes were apologetic. "Millerna overheard me telling Eries that I was going to pay you a visit, and she wanted to come, too. I tried to tell her no because I knew she was going to get like this, but she kept insisting. Then Uncle Grava heard the fuss Millie was making and..." Lavender's voice trailed off.  
  
I waved off the rest of her apology. "You don't have to explain. It's OK."  
  
There was no need for further elaboration. I could pretty much guess what happened: Millerna making a ruckus. Her cousin and sister unwilling to give in . The King hearing the commotion to find his favorite at odds with Eries and Lavender and finally bringing it all to an abrupt stop by ordering Lavender to take Millerna along. Most likely, Eries protesting the decision, and her father responding by telling her to accompany Millerna as well. I had seen variations of this scene before.  
  
No wonder Eries was so touchy. Today was a Market Day, and she had no lessons this afternoon. Her plans for the day were probably ruined by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  
  
King Aston, although he was a proponent of discipline in child rearing in theory, was not quite so quick to put it into practice, at least where Millerna was concerned. After the Queen's passing, he had charged Millerna's governesses and her sisters with Millerna's instruction and upbringing and given them permission to punish her, strictly if necessary, at their discretion. Millerna's caretakers took their duty seriously and exercised their authority as they deemed necessary to best mold the character of the future Queen. However, Millerna quickly learned that the best way to get out of trouble was to go crying to Father. King Aston could not bear to see his youngest and favorite daughter upset. Invariably, he would excuse her behavior or grant her what she had been denied. "Oh, just this once," he would say, to Millerna's effusive cheers. Just one time turned to just about all the time. If not for the fact that the King frequently engaged in business that kept him inaccessible to his daughters for days at a time, Millerna would be spoiled rotten. As it was, the inconsistency in discipline was bringing out a willful, obstinate streak in her personality. More than once, I had heard Eries and Marlene complaining about Millerna's unreasonable behavior, as if she could always get her way if she were just stubborn enough.   
  
"Great," I thought. "I've been handed over to the mercy of a four-year-old by the order of the King."  
  
Aloud, I said, "I don't see why she wants to bother me though."  
  
"It's not you in particular she interested in. Though you did get her started. You just happen to be convenient."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Millerna has decided she is interested in medicine." I gaped in puzzlement as Lavender elaborated. "When you got hurt, Eries kept her from getting too close. She thought it would be too traumatic for her. Still, she caught a glimpse of me and Trevor working on you right before the physicians came to take you away. I hadn't even had a chance to clean up before she started pestering me. She wanted to know what happened to you, what we were doing, why we were doing it, why my dress was all ripped, and where all the blood came from. Then it turned into why there was blood and what did it do. She just about wore me out with all of her questions." Lavender slumped in her chair, as if just remembering tired her. "We all thought she would forget about it the next day like she usually does. But she didn't. Marlene told me that the following morning she found one of the doctors that had tended to you and started showering him with questions about body parts. He ended up taking her to the kitchen for an anatomy lesson." She made a face. "He used the pig that the cooks were going to roast for supper to demonstrate. By the time they were done with their lesson, the only thing it was good for was sausage."  
  
"Oh. So I guess I'm part of her foray into medicine then?" I gave her a wry smile. Though I was far from pleased at being looked upon as Millerna's next specimen, I did find it humorous that the fussy little Crown Princess would choose to obsess over such a messy subject.  
  
"Afraid so. And don't forget. It's your fault. You just hadn't gone and bled all over the place, she never would have thought the human body was anything to wonder about."  
  
"That's fine. Makes her that much more interesting. Just as long as she doesn't start dissecting ME."  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that. It's probably just a phase. Though Marlene is getting a bit disturbed by all this talk of blood and guts at the dinnertime."  
  
Well," I said, folding my arms behind my head and flopping back against the pillows, "now that we've cleared up why Millerna is here, we can talk about what brings you here this fine day. Not that I mind. Actually, I'm glad you came to visit. It makes it that much easier to thank you in person for helping me."  
  
Lavender's trademark casual cheerfulness evaporated. "Er…yeah, about that, uh…"   
  
I bolted upright. "Don't tell me, it's Anita, isn't it?" I groaned, smacking a hand on my forehead in exasperation. "I told Mother it would be a bad idea to send her."  
  
The day after the accident, we sent over a letter to Lavender thanking her for her help. Along with the missive, we had also sent Anita, our family seamstress, over to fit Lavender for a new dancing frock to replace the one I had ruined.  
  
"I'm really sorry. She means well, she really does, she just gets a bit carried away. She does really good--"  
  
"No, no, no--it's not that!" Lavender broke in. "That was fine. I mean, she was fine. And you really didn't have to get me a new dress. That wasn't necessary."  
  
"So what's the problem?" If it was not the obsessive compulsive behavior of the frill-happy, fashion-hyper seamstress, I had no idea what could be troubling her.  
  
"I wanted to apologize to you."   
  
Apologize? I looked askance at her.   
  
Her pale face darkened to a rosy pink as it became obvious I needed further elaboration.  
  
"You know... by t-t-t-touching you..." Lavender broke off abruptly and stared fixedly at her lap.  
  
I was rarely, if ever, this up to use. I willed my drug addled wits to tell me why she sat hunched over her chair like that, her hands gripping her knees so hard her knuckles showed white, as if she were about to be dealt a physical blow...  
  
Several confused seconds passed before realization finally dawned. "Oh... that..."   
  
A pause.  
  
"That's OK. You don't have to apologize for that," I said nonchalantly.   
  
Lavender's head jerked up like a puppet on a string . Her face was practically a flame. "What do you mean I don't have to? Of course I do!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Why?" While I could not say that I was completely unperturbed by the recollection of Lavender feeling about my nether regions, it was not something that caused me lingering shame. In dry, medical terms, my injury had required the compression of the main artery feeding my leg to slow my bleeding. There was nothing obscene about it. It just happened to be located where it was located. Granted, it was in a particularly embarrassing location. However, I am a rational person, and I understand that sometimes certain things have to be done no matter how uncomfortable. "The doctors explained to me why you were pressing there. They were even pressing there!" Indeed, I had a bruise there to show for it.  
  
"But they're doctors! And... I'm a girl, and you're a boy, and it just wasn't proper--"   
  
"You insisted!. And it's not like it bothered you then."  
  
"That's because I wasn't thinking! Well, I was, but I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot--" Flustered, Lavender broke off.  
  
If I wasn't so concerned about hurting her feelings, I would have laughed out loud. Before, I had been near hysterical, and she had been cool as a cucumber. Now, in retrospect, I was no longer disconcerted. Though, there was a distinct possibility that my painkillers played a role in my current emotional detachment. Lavender, on the other hand, was appalled by her actions, as if she had been one step short of violating me or something.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she continued a more subdued voice. "Emergency or not, it was inappropriate for me to do what I did. Especially with Trevor there. I should have had him..."  
  
"Well, you didn't. Lavender, I know I was freaking out at the time, but you were just doing what you had to. I know you weren't out to molest me or anything."  
  
If anything, my reassurances just made Lavender feel worse. "But you don't understand," Lavender moaned miserably. "The look Trevor gave me after the physicians took you away-- it just made me feel like some pervert lecherous tramp or something. And Marlene--"  
  
I cut short her lament. This infuriated me--not Lavender's actions but everything around her that was making her feel bad. It was galling, the thought that someone should be punished for doing a good turn, especially when the basis of judgment had nothing to do with justice but had everything to do with arbitrarily chosen guidelines for what was considered "proper." Lavender's jaw went slack as I railed against those who would abase her.  
  
Hotly, I declared I would defend her from any who would besmirch her reputation. "-- and if they have a 'breach of decorum problem' with what happened, I'll slash open their legs and then ask them what they think about etiquette!"  
  
Stunned, she stared at me . And then burst into laughter.  
  
Slightly miffed, I waited for her laughing fit to pass. Well, at the very least I had cheered her up. I suppose such big words juxtaposed with my current near invalid state, which I had inflicted upon myself, was rather ridiculous. Though I didn't think she should have found it quite THAT humorous.   
  
Almost as quickly as it began, her laughter ceased. "That was rude of me. I shouldn't have--" The anxious stammer began creeping back into her voice.  
  
I made of show of waving away the impending apology. "It's OK. Really." I assured her. Anticipating another round of protests, I spoke quickly, steering the conversation in another direction. "And to tell the truth, I was pretty amazed that you knew what to do. Where did you learn to do that anyway? It's not like it's part of our tutoring curriculum."  
  
Lavender blinked. "First aid? Oh, that was Father's idea."  
  
"Prince Nueva taught you that?" She nodded. Now I was really curious. "Why?" I pressed.  
  
She tilted her head to one side as she gathered her thoughts. "You know how I travel with Father often?"  
  
I nodded. I did not know Lavender nearly as well as Indigo. However it was common knowledge that she had inherited Prince Nueva's love of the outdoors and travel unlike Lady Miriam and Indigo, whose world revolved around the events and people of Palas.  
  
"I think it was four years ago. I was doing some sightseeing near one of the smaller villages in Freid. The views were spectacular, but the road conditions were dismal. One of the carriages in our tour group slid off into a ditch. There were about five people that were hurt, one of them badly. But only one of our guides knew anything about what to do for them." She frowned at the recollection. "I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do and kept asking Father how I could help. After that, Father arranged for us and the servants we usually travel with to learn basic first aid."  
  
She paused. "Actually, it was probably a wise decision, considering how active we are," she added thoughtfully.  
  
She was certainly right about the "active" self-description. Lavender, like Prince Nueva, was full of energy. If she had been born a boy, she most certainly would have been an athlete. There was no doubt in my mind she would swing swords with Haim and the other squires if she could. However, she was born a Prince's daughter and was too mindful of her position to be a tomboy. She managed, however, throwing body and soul with complete abandon into those activities society deemed appropriate for women of the blood. For that reason, she was unanimously the boys' favorite partner in our dance class. With such liveliness, every dance was an adventure, especially the rapid pace reales and schontees that she dearly loved. The only drawback was that she had a tendency to overtake her partner's lead with her enthusiasm. On summer beach outings, she would leave the other girls, who splashed around in shallows just enough to cool themselves off, and plow into deeper waters to actually swim. It was a remarkable feat considering what she had to wear. Asturian swimwear for females catered more towards fashion than swimming. Despite the calf length skirts and miscellaneous trim weighing her down, she would thread tirelessly back and forth through the water. She also dearly loved riding and would spend hours on horseback during our visits at Tanglewood.  
  
This vibrancy manifested into her personality as well. Unlike Marlene, who could be downright moody at times, Lavender exuded an almost perpetual sunniness fueled by some inner, tireless source. For that, she made great company once we had pushed beyond the embarrassing events of a few days ago.  
  
At my prompting, she recounted more about her many travels with her father. She was not quite the storyteller 'Nette was, but her tales had an effervescence and power of all their own.  
  
Our conversation was interrupted by a rush of noise downstairs. "Sounds like your father's home," said Lavender cheerfully.  
  
I was less than thrilled. He had yet to hear about my accident. From the sound of it, the situation was being explained to him by Mother with occasional interjecting by Millerna.  
  
Lavender noted my sudden sullenness. "What's the matter, Dryden?"  
  
I felt a twinge of envy just then towards this girl who shared so much with her father. Come to think of it, I had probably spent more "quality time" with Prince Nueva on my various excursions with my agemates than I had with my own father.But it was not her fault that my father was such an uninvolved blockhead.  
  
"Nothing," I said. There was no need for me to burden her with my grievances towards my father. Besides, she was already aware of it, I was sure. Strained parent-child relationships were not an uncommon theme amongst our circle of acquaintances. "But I do want to thank you again for coming. It's been fun."  
  
"I am sorry about Millerna though--"  
  
"That's OK. Actually, with her here, I might not get into trouble with Father."  
  
Instead of laughing, Lavender suddenly became serious. "What do you think of Millerna?"  
  
"Well, her bedside manner definitely needs work. And I think that if you aren't careful, you're going to wind up with a cousin who dissects every meal."  
  
"That's not what I meant, Dryden."  
  
I knew perfectly well what she was getting at. Ever since King Aston's official proclamation naming Millerna as his successor, nobles had been vying to present potential candidates for Prince Consort like jockeys jostling for position in a horse race. Stakes were high, and it was no secret who led the pack in this race where the odds were proportional to influence and wealth. But, just because my father had certain aspirations did not mean that I shared them.  
  
"If you're asking me if I want to marry her, I'd say that she's too young and I'm too hurt right now to answer that question," I responded testily.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was a sore spot."  
  
"No apologies necessary. It's not a sore spot. Well. Not really." Growling in frustration, I rubbed the bridge of my nose.I could feel pressure building behind my eyes. This type of talk always did give me a headache.   
  
Slightly exasperated, I explained, "I really don't know what I want right now, and it really annoys me that some people have already decided. But, if you really want to know, what I want is what you have. "  
  
Lavender's eyes widened in surprise, but I was too caught up in my tirade to stop. "I want a family that cares. I want to be with people I care about and who actually care. Not the sham that passes for marriage under this roof. It could be Millerna, but it might not. And it's not her, I am not going to marry her for someone else's convenience." I stopped short, suddenly realizing that I might have said more than was appropriate.  
  
"I'm sorry. That was improper..." I backpedalled.  
  
Lavender was not offended. Far from it. "No, it's OK. You may not have answered the question, but I got what I needed."  
  
"And Dryden," she added, "if you keep the attitude you've got, I think that you'll get what you want." She said the words with so much conviction that, even cynical as I felt just then, it was impossible at that moment to believe that anything else could be true.  
  
Then she smiled. Warmly. Looking back now, I'm sure she meant it to be an encouragement, reassurance. But my reaction to it was completely different.  
  
I met her gaze, and all of a sudden, I felt as if I were drowning in the depths of her luminous dark eyes. My heart pounded erratically inside me.  
  
I had always categorized Lavender as pretty--everyone did--but her beauty affected me no more than, say, a finely crafted vase might. Until now. Those features, so familiar to me, were stirring all sorts of unfamiliar emotions inside of me. It was as if I were seeing her anew through someone else's eyes. This sudden attraction that gripped me was awkward, thrilling, and perplexing all at once.   
  
I felt my face grow warm.   
  
Her forehead wrinkled in concern. "Dryden, are you feeling alright? You look feverish." My eyes widened, captivated by her perfect features, as she reached over to check my temperature. I nearly gasped aloud at the cool touch of her soft hands against my brow.  
  
I had an intense urge to both kiss her and hide under the covers at the same time.  
  
Is this what happens when you fall in love?  
  
Or maybe it's just the drugs...  
  
"Lavender, I--"  
  
Whenever else might have potentially happened next, enchanting or embarrassing, was lost, because the next moment, the door slammed open, and Millerna bounded in.  
  
"Dryden! Dryden! Your father's back!"  
  
Hope you enjoyed this. Since you went through the trouble of reading it, please send a review! Just so you know, the current outline for this story has six chapters. However, we have decided that if there does not appear to be too much interest in this story, we will stop with the next chapter. (We have to write the next chapter because it focuses on an encounter between Dryden and Eries, who is hS' favorite character.)  
  
Next up: Eries. 


	3. Age 11: Eries part 1

Hey, we are back! Thank you to everyone who sent a review! Special thanks to those took the time to e-mail us nice long reviews. Note to Leila, point taken and acknowledged about the motivations of those who go into the field of medicine. We certainly don't doubt the existence of people who decide to be doctors for altruistic intentions. In fact, some of those people happened to be close friends of ours. However, we have had more than our share of run-ins with insensitive and unscrupulous doctors so we know from experience that not everyone who is a doctor becomes one for the betterment of mankind. Also, we mulled over your suggestion about character portrayal, and the result is that we completely redid this chapter plus the chapter nearly doubled in length. Hope you enjoy what we did with Dryden and Eries.  
  
As is our practice, we have decided to again honor those who have been so kind as to leave a review by using your names in our story. So if you see your name, it's not a coincidence. (Mossygirl, this includes you--we had to use your other alias though )  
  
Please note that all the words between the asterisks are Dryden's thoughts. We were going to do it in italics, but we have had so many formatting problems with keeping the formatting in place after uploading it onto websites that we figured it would be just easier to do it this way.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
The small gong clanged. The harsh brassy sound shattered the relative peace of the parlor. The reverberations lasted only briefly, quickly dampened by the ornate hangings, elaborate draperies, and overstuffed furniture of the royal family's private quarters.  
  
On cue, Princess Eries knelt onto a flat, rectangular cushion placed on the blue velvet carpet. Her back was ramrod straight, her head up and attentive, and the folds of her auburn brocade dress neatly arrayed about her. Before her was a low table set with plates, bowls, and several silver spoons cast in the Freidan style.  
  
"What comes first?" I prompted.  
  
Keeping her eyes fixed forward, she responded. "Hand cleaning. A servant will provide a moistened towel for me to use before the meal."  
  
Her answer satisfactory, I drew by her side. It was only then that she turned to face me. With a respectful nod, I presented her with a handkerchief. It was small and thin and dry; no self-respecting Freidan Head Steward would present such a thing to an honored guest at a banquet. Then again, I was not really a Freidan Head Steward, although I had to taken the time to fold the cloth in the intricate manner of the best jasmine-scented serving linens of Godashim. Eries took the proffered cloth and with a practiced flick of her wrist, unfurled it and began going through the motions of carefully wiping her hands as if she were sitting at Duke Mahad's dining table.  
  
With a quick pressing of palms to convey thanks, she returned the handkerchief to me. "What's next?" I asked.  
  
"First course. Soup. Freidans use spoons to eat everything except for soup, which is to be sipped straight out of the bowl."  
  
I set a bowl before her and she pantomimed drinking out of it. As I scrutinized her movements, I stifled a yawn. I had been drilling Eries since midafternoon, and it was the third watch of the night now. It did not help that my surroundings were conspiring against my efforts to stay conscious. The crackling fire in the parlor hearth filled the room with a drowsy heat. Outside, the last of the winter rains sent raindrops pitter patter, drumming a lulling rhythm against the window panes.  
  
In two days, the seasons would turn, and it would officially be spring, but it might as well be called "wedding season." For whatever reason, this particular spring it seemed like everyone and their second cousin were getting married. In the Fassa contingent alone, there were ten singles preparing for matrimony, including six formerly thought to be "confirmed" bachelors.  
  
And it was not just in Asturia. It was a bumper year for marriages all over Gaia, monarchs included. Those high-profile international weddings were the primary reason why I was burning the midnight oil with the Second Princess of Asturia. Scheduled within the next eight weeks were a number of royal weddings and a coronation, all occasions that required the attendance of a member of the House of Aston. King Aston, however, was in the midst of investigating an embezzlement scandal involving one of his Council members and the Palas Harbormaster. Not only did he have to root out and punish the troublemakers, he also had to remediate shoddy maintenance work performed at the all-important Palas Harbor that had directly resulted from the shenanigans. For him to leave for two months with affairs as they were was nigh impossible. The king's brother was the logical substitute; however Prince Nueva's in-laws, the Sennas, were also experiencing an avalanche of nuptials this spring, and familial obligations required their presence elsewhere.   
  
So it was decided that the three princesses would go in their father's stead. Marlene was old enough (and certainly looked it), and Eries responsible enough to represent their country. As for Millerna, it was an opportunity for her to travel out of the country and get a glimpse of what lay in her future, and her sisters were more than capable of chaperoning her.  
  
Marlene was unconcerned by the assignment. For her, it was just another tiresome thing she had to deal with as a king's daughter. Eries was an entirely different matter. While Marlene held the attitude that she could always charm her way out of any faux pas that might arise, Eries was not about to grant herself that amount of leeway. She held high levels of expectation for herself and was determined that her behavior be irreproachable as she was representing her country, after all.  
  
Eries had arranged to meet with Lord Gyre, our etiquette tutor, for a refresher on the customs and social graces of the countries she and her sisters would be visiting. Unfortunately, at the last minute, she received a message saying that the instructor was incapacitated, having suddenly come down with a nasty flu.  
  
Eries was distraught. She had been counting on Lord Gyre's help. Eries was an excellent student; she was the best note taker in our class --her work was even better than some of my father's scribes. However, although she had instructions meticulously printed onto paper, she was hazy on the details of fine nuances that could not be easily captured into words. It was one thing to know that Daedalians eat crassle with a spoon and fork. It was entirely another to know exactly how to manipulate the utensils without flinging oily crassle sauce all over the table.  
  
Lady Miriam was unavailable, she and her family having already left for De Venus for the first of the Senna weddings. In desperation, Eries sought Marlene's help. However, Marlene had problems of her own. She was in the midst of packing for the trip and could not be bothered by her younger sister's frantic pleas.   
  
That was where I came in.  
  
If I do say so myself, she would have been hard pressed to find another person better qualified to act as substitute for Lord Gyre. When it came to learning, understanding, imitating, and remembering the idiosyncrasies and peculiarities that set each culture apart from each other, no one within our circle of acquaintances was more adept than myself. Indigo once remarked, rather snidely, too, I might add, that my talent for keeping Lord Gyre's instructions only proved that I was part monkey. Well, better a well-schooled monkey than an ill-prepared princess. Then again, it was not like I was doing it to please anyone but myself. It was a kind of offshoot of my fascination of things foreign. Perhaps it was 'Nette's influence--her colorful depictions of the different peoples of Gaia were so exciting and alive that I could not wait to jump in and become part of the scene, too. Well, whatever the reason, if you needed assistance with international manners and niceties, salutations and diction, gestures and idioms, I was your man-- well, as long as it did not involve steering a partner around a dance floor to music. Admittedly, I was still dismal at that.  
  
Had I caught wind of Eries' predicament, most likely, I would have garnered some entertainment out of it-- forced her to play a game of catch-me-first-if-you-want-my-help or something like that before getting down to work. As it was, I did not get the chance.  
  
I swear, that girl was part cat. I did not even hear her coming. And in a palace library that was quite a feat. One moment, I was contentedly browsing through the stacks, and the next moment Eries was right in my face. She frightened me so badly I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My heart did not stop, but I did scream and send several books crashing down, making a racket loud enough for the entire building to hear. She did not so much as flinch but, with a "HiDryden,yougotamoment?Goodlet'sgo", grabbed me by the sleeve, and dragged me, still gasping from the scare, out of the library. I knew there was a reason I nicknamed her "Sniper" ; however, on occasions like this, I thought she derived a little too much enjoyment out of living up her nickname.  
  
Having captured me, she proceeded to have me help her review the finer points of foreign etiquette for the next several hours. It was probably a good thing that we did. She spent the first half hour struggling to hold a pair of chopsticks properly and then the next hour trying to manipulate the things well enough not to look an imbecile at a Chingre banquet. As for me, it was not so bad--actually it was kind of fun. As I said before, I enjoyed this sort of thing, and besides, I liked Eries. Plus, she did go out of her way to make it worth my while as evidenced by the stacks of now empty dessert plates piled up on one of the parlor room tables.  
  
However, it was very late now, and even having been fueled by the best delicacies the king's personal cook could offer, I was exhausted.  
  
Eries finished playacting through her Freidan feast, and I nodded approvingly. "Good. You're all set now for Mahad dal Freid's coronation ceremony and anything that Freid can throw at you."  
  
Relief flickered briefly over Eries' face before replaced by a slightly anxious look. "Are you sure we have not left out anything?"  
  
"See for yourself." I handed her her notes, which we had been using as a guide for our review. As she scanned the rows of neatly printed instructions, I stretched and yawned hugely. "Well, I guess we can call it a night."  
  
Eries' head snapped up. "No, wait. There's still one more country we have to review."  
  
I looked askance at her. Ticking off my fingers, I recounted aloud those places we had reviewed today. "Basram, Chezario, Chingre, Daedalus, Nasshafa, Catalina. Six weddings. One coronation, Freid." I wiggled seven raised fingers at her.  
  
Eries shook her head. There's... one additional stop on the trip. Fanelia."  
  
"Fanelia?" I racked my brain trying to recall what major event was taking place in the neighboring kingdom. "What's going on there?"  
  
"Nothing." Eries seemed a bit uncomfortable as if she were uncertain about making me privy to this information. "We'll pass by it on the way from Basram so Father thought it would be a good opportunity for us to visit. Visit and maintain good relations, that sort of thing."  
  
I raised an eyebrow, "Any negotiations? Ceremonies? State dinners? Anything of that sort?"  
  
"Umm, not really..."  
  
"Oh. Well, then, what are you worried about? We don't have to spend time going over Fanelian niceties for that. Think of it as a vacation-"  
  
"Yes we do," Eries insisted. "I'll be representing Asturia and it just wouldn't do-"  
  
"-for you to goof up in front of everyone yeah, yeah, yeah- I KNOW that, but for crying out loud, lighten up, Sniper!" I snapped, dropping all formalities and reverting to her nickname. "You're just going to be a guest of another royal, not on display to be picked apart by elite busybodies." I was cranky and growing irritated with her obstinance.  
  
"But-"  
  
"Look, I'm tired. If you were really honest with yourself, you'd admit you're tired, too. It's LATE. You have to fly to Catalina. Tomorrow. Get some rest. You'll need that more than another dress rehearsal."  
  
"I don't think you really understand the importance of-"  
  
"YES I DO! And I also understand this. Fanelia has got to be one of the most laid-back places on the planet. As long as you're not trying to attain knighthood there, which I highly doubt in your case, you'll be fine."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Their greetings are simple, their table etiquette is easy, and fentlar is essentially a no-brainer."  
  
"Fentlar?! What's that?" Eries' voice bordered on panic.  
  
Opps, I did it again. As I mentioned before, I have a penchant for things foreign. That includes words and phrases. All of Gaia speak a common language, but each locality has lingo unique to its area. Since becoming an apprentice in the Fassa headquarters, I had collected a number of expressions and had a growing tendency to use them to liven up my speech. "Fentlar" was a Fanelian term for "obvious common courtesy." With the amount of Fanelian traffic that passed through our country, it was not uncommon to hear that particular term in Asturia; I knew that Eries had to be exhausted if she was mistaking it for another elaborate custom.  
  
I was about to clear up the misunderstanding when I was seized by a sudden inspiration.  
  
"What do you mean you don't remember fentlar?" I asked, feigning exasperation. My testy response sent Eries diving back into her notebook in a frantic search for a reference to "fentlar."  
  
Wow, she's really falling for it!  
  
"Give me that." I took the notes out of her hands and grabbed her wrist. "It's easier if I show you." I led her to an open space in the parlor all the while shaking my head as if in disbelief and loudly muttering, "Fentlar! How can you forget that?! It's the most basic thing." This was absolutely evil of me, but I could not stop myself. It had been so long since I had been able to pull a fast one on Eries, and the opportunity would probably never arise again.  
  
"Now pay attention," I ordered sternly. Eries did so, her entire being taut and focused, waiting for my commands.  
  
It's almost as if she's asking for it...   
  
"Fentlar is a formal Fanelian apology," I continued. "Knowing Millerna, you had better be ready for this just in case she accidentally breaks something or gets into a fight with another child.There's some specific phrases you have to use, but the most important thing is the bow. Don't worry. It's not too hard, it's similar to the Fried' deprecating toad' stance."  
  
Eries nodded, all ears to my prevarication. I could not believe how easy this was.  
  
She's not even questioning any of this...  
  
"First," I instructed, "bring your arms up above your head. No, no- don't swing them up in front of you, bring them up the sides- yes, that's it."   
  
Keeping a straight face, I continued to lead her through the movements of the "fentlar.""Now do a full bend at the waist."   
  
Eries obediently jackknifed.  
  
"Good. Ok, now bend your knees."   
  
Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe it's too mean.   
  
"Like this?" Eries lowered herself into a crouching position.   
  
Naaaah.  
  
"Yes, and put your hands to the ground as you come down. Yeah, right there, good."   
  
Almost there...   
  
"And you want to make sure you keep your head bowed down so drop your chin."  
  
Eries did so, curling up into a ball. "Like this?"  
  
"That's PERFECT!" I shoved her hard from behind, sending her rolling head-over heels.  
  
I howled with laughter. It had been ages since I had seen the Second Princess of Asturia look so undignified. Her unexpected tumble sent her sprawling, her hair and petticoats all awry.  
  
It didn't take her very long to recover though.  
  
"DRYDEN FASSA!!!" Livid was an understatement.  
  
Oh boy, I'm in for it now...  
  
Eries scrambled to her feet and, with a rage burning in her eyes, lunged after me.  
  
... but it was soo worth it.   
  
Still laughing, I ran with the furious princess hot on my heels. Round and round the parlor, I went, dodging sculptures and plants, leaping over tables, skirting about bookshelves and divans. Maintaining such a speed while laughing so hard was difficult, however; and I finally stumbled after failing to negotiate around an end table. I went flying onto a sofa with a thump, and Eries pounced on me there.  
  
She flailed at me with her tiny fists, and that only made me laugh harder. Eries was small for her age, while I was taller than most boys two or three years older than me. Seeing the diminutive princess assault gargantuan me just made things more hilarious. Her blows did not really inflict damage, but my abdomen was starting to hurt from all my guffawing.  
  
That, if anything, made her madder. She grabbed a huge leather bound atlas from a nearby bookstand and began whaling me with that.  
  
"Ouch! Hahahaha-hee- hey! Hahahaha- That hurts- You can- Ow! Do some serious - hahahaha- damage - snort - hehehe with that - haha - Ow!"  
  
Oh man, she's really serious. She's going to kill me. But at least I know I died for a good cause.  
  
"What is going on here?!"  
  
Abruptly, Eries ceased her attack. I looked up to see Master Norwey, the head butler of the royal family's private residence, storming in through the door with a distinctly disagreeable look on his face.  
  
"Why, nothing at all," Eries replied sweetly  
  
I blinked. Impressive! In a flash, Eries had gone from avenging fury to innocence itself, sitting properly on the other end of the sofa with the atlas opened and spread out on her lap. I could not say as much for myself, still in defensive position, awkwardly half on and half off on the sofa.  
  
Norwey was unconvinced, fixing a skeptical eye on me as I clumsily pulled myself back into a decent posture. He crossed his arms in front of him menacingly. "So what was that racket?"  
  
"Dryden was demonstrating for me and got carried away," answered Eries smoothly.  
  
Norwey scowled at me. I did not really like him much. Even on his best days he was a stuffy fuddy duddy. The slightest hint of anyone having a good time seemed to make him cantankerous.  
  
"Young Fassa," he sniffed. "You need to be mindful of your place. It is late. If you cannot remember that this is the royal residence and not a playground, perhaps you should go home."  
  
What a fine suggestion! Exactly what I had in mind. Eries' face paled. But I was not such a monster after all.  
  
I plastered a winning smile on my face. "I am terribly sorry, Master Norwey. It won't happen again," I apologized obsequiously.  
  
"It had better not," growled the grumpy old servant. With one final glare in my direction, he collected the empty dessert dishes into a tray and exited the room.  
  
Once he was safely out of earshot, I sidled next to Eries, who was pretending to be engrossed in her book.  
  
"Your book's upside down, Sniper."  
  
Eries slammed the atlas shut and gave me one final whack. "Dryden Fassa, you're impossible!" she seethed.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry for flipping you-"  
  
"No you're not sorry. You enjoyed that!"  
  
"Well, actually, yes, you're right. I'm not really sorry." I smirked smugly. "I enjoyed it, and I'd do it again, too."  
  
"However," I continued, ignoring Eries' withering glare, "it wasn't without due cause. I have been here for AGES helping you without complaining, and I don't think it's unreasonable for you to let me go now so I can get home before dawn. Norwey apparently agrees with me. So give me a good reason to stay, or I'm leaving."  
  
My ultimatum took all the wind out of the Eries' sails. Turning away from me, she suddenly became very quiet.  
  
I did not have time for this. "Well? If you don't have anything to say, I'm going." I got up to leave.  
  
"Wait!" I halted. "Wait," she repeated imploringly.  
  
I turned and leaned back on my heels to wait for her response. "Well? I'm waiting." I said impatiently.  
  
Eyes downcast, she replied in a small, small voice. "There's nothing going on in Fanelia. But it's not a simple visit either. I'm... to be betrothed to Prince Folken."  
  
I gaped, dumbfounded. Eries?! Betrothed?! Marlene was older than Eries, and Aston had yet to decide on a match for her. I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was an inarticulate, "B-b-b-b-b-b-b-"  
  
"The word is ' betrothed', Dryden." Eries looked up with a resigned smile on her face. "I'm a princess. It was bound to happen sooner or later." She shrugged.  
  
I could relate. After all, my father had been wrangling to secure my bid for Princess Millerna's hand for what seemed like years now. But still...  
  
"But you're only eleven!" I cried out, finally finding my tongue.  
  
"I said I'm to be betrothed to him. I'm not going there to marry him... at least not yet." Eries wrung her hands in her lap uncharacteristically . "The betrothal won't be made official until Prince Folken passes his rite of kingship, and no one knows exactly when that will happen. They have to wait for certain signs before it can take place so it could be months from now."  
  
"But," she continued, her voice quivering. "Father wants me to go there and meet him. I... I'm..."  
  
... she's scared.  
  
I felt like a complete heel. Added to the responsibilities for trip, she also had the pressure of meeting her future husband. And who knew what he was like? He might be a decent fellow or he could be a complete jerk. No wonder she was so concerned about getting everything just right. For her it was more than just making a good first impression on the fellow royals in the neighboring country. They were her future in-laws!  
  
I knew that Eries was mature behind her years, but seeing her huddled anxiously in the parlor, I wondered if this was pushing the limit. She just seemed too young, too little to have to face this right now. It certainly was not a situation I would want to be in, and I dwarfed her in comparison.  
  
But none of this was in our hands. Much larger forces were in control, and there was nothing we could do about that.  
  
But I would do what I could.  
  
I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You'll be fine. You'll be ready. Because I'll make sure you are." I gave her an encouraging smile. "Come on, Sniper. We don't have much time left."  
  
Gratitude shone in her eyes. "Thank you."  
  
"Giddyap!"  
  
"Ow! I heard you! You don't have to kick me."  
  
"Then move! You're too slow!"  
  
As I picked up the pace with a Crown Princess perched on my shoulders, I made a mental note never again to mix alcohol with Penalty.  
  
Spring was nearing an end, and I was at Tanglewood. Prince Nueva had commissioned an expansion of the estate, and, as it was completed just about the time his family and his three nieces returned from their respective travels, he thought it was a good enough excuse for a gathering at the villa after being away from Palas society for so long.  
  
Tanglewood was filled to capacity with the royals and their guests, who had come today to admire the new sculptures and explore the paths and flowered nooks of Tanglewood's latest garden addition. The Prince had arranged for entertainment, complete with music ensembles and dancers, and the festivities lasted well into the evening. There were, of course, refreshments, tables replete with gourmet delicacies fit for a king--or, at the very least, a prince. The king himself was absent, having other obligations that prevented him from leaving the capital.  
  
To our delight, Prince Nueva invited my agemates and me to sample a little bit of vino. The contents of the tiny crystal snifters did not quite agree with Thor; much to the Prince's amusement, Thor sputtered and choked on the unfamiliar beverage and refused to have anything more to do with it. The rest of us, however, enjoyed it immensely. I thought it was delicious. I savored every drop in my glass and polished off the remainder of Thor's vino for good measure.  
  
Not long after that, Helga, Lord Lamirah's seven-year-old daughter, suggested we play Penalty, and I made the mistake of joining in on the game. I thought that the game was okay, but it was not a particular favorite of mine. However, for some reason, I was extraordinarily eager to participate at the time.  
  
When it came to Penalty, I sometimes won, but rarely was I so inept as to wind up the loser. Tonight I lost, and I lost abominably. Each one of us who had had a taste of Prince Nueva's samples played worse than usual, but my performance was abysmal. My brain felt like it was misfiring, and my reflexes were slower than a three-legged turtle.  
  
So here I was now paying the Penalty to the winner, Millerna. She decided that what she wanted was for me to be her "horsie" for the rest of the night. Consequently, I spent the remainder of the garden party carrying her from place to place on my shoulders and having to listen to her babble about everything from how fat the Chezarian king was to the latest puppet show at the bazaar.  
  
Mercifully, my sentence was nearly over. Twice already we had headed for her room to have her turn us back downstairs, once because she suddenly wanted a snack and the second time because she realized she had forgotten her shawl in the garden. But now, it seemed like she was ready to turn in for the night.  
  
Man, Millerna could really talk your ear off. Not only that, she jumped around from subject to subject with no apparent rhyme or reason. At her insistence, I had just begun a detailed explanation on cheese manufacture when she suddenly shifted gears and wanted to know if there were dragons nearby.  
  
"Dragons? I think not. There haven't been dragons in Asturia for centuries." The bedroom she and Eries were sharing came into sight, and I picked up the pace, eager to be rid of my garrulous passenger.  
  
"Van says there are dragons really close by in his forest."  
  
"Who's Van?"   
  
"He lives in Fanelia."  
  
"Oh, I see." By then, I was only half-listening, as we had finally reached our destination. My hands were full so I tapped the door with my shoe.  
  
"He says they're HUGE!" Millerna plowed ahead eagerly, unfazed by my lack of interest. "He says they're the size of 20 horses. And they've got wings and can fly, too."  
  
"Oh." I fidgeted, willing to Sniper to hurry up and collect her sister.  
  
"They've got sharp teeth, too. Oh-oh-oh plus, they breathe out fire--Hi, Sister!"  
  
To my relief, Eries finally opened the door. From the look on her face, she seemed a little unnerved by the topic Millerna was enthusiastically expounding upon. She quickly composed herself though. "Hi Dryden. All right, Millerna, it's time you got off."  
  
"Awww..." Millerna whined, clearly displeased at having let me loose.  
  
"Millerna, Dryden's more than paid his Penalty and it's time for you to go to bed."  
  
With Eries' assistance, Millerna slid off my back and onto the floor. "Now don't forget to thank him."  
  
"But I won! He's supposed to do- "  
  
"Millerna..."  
  
"Fine." Millerna scowled defiantly at her sister before turning to me. Bobbing a curtsy, she said with artificial sweetness, "Thank you very much for the ride, Dryden."  
  
I bowed in turn. "My pleasure, Princess." Truthfully, it had not been a pleasure, but my response was probably as sincere as her thanks.  
  
Duty done, I exited the villa. The grounds outside were deserted, guests and servants alike already having turned in for the night. It was time for me to do likewise, but I lingered outside.  
  
I was not sure if it was the vino or having to carry Millerna around or both, but whatever the reason, I was feeling uncomfortably warm. The cool evening breeze felt exceptionally wonderful on my overheated body. Instead of heading for my bed in the guest house, I settled onto a nearby stone beach beneath a trio of ancient trees. I stretched, easing out the aches in my shoulders and enjoying the feel of the wind in my hair. The quiet sounds of the dark countryside were a welcome contrast to Millerna's seemingly endless prattle. The peacefulness of the scene settled over me, and I relaxed.  
  
Just as I was musing on how perfect the night was-  
  
-it got better.  
  
A noise roused me from my reverie, and I looked up. My breath caught.  
  
Standing in a balcony just above me were Lavender and Marlene. Bathed in the light of the twin moons, they looked ethereal, enchanting creatures from another time, another world. Their nightgowns and tresses fluttered gently, caught in the breeze.  
  
Lavender stretched out a slender arm, gesturing towards the Mystic Moon. Marlene smiled, nodding in agreement. The two cousins were admiring the night sky together. As they spoke in hushed voices, waxing romantic about the stars, the sky, and the moons above, I sat spellbound.  
  
Until last year, I had been all but oblivious to the charms of the female persuasion. I mean, how girls looked registered in my brain, but did not really REGISTER, if you know what I mean.  
  
Then came that day after my accident that Lavender visited me. And I NOTICED. And I could not help noticing after that. Whenever a pretty girl was around, I would watch her from the corner of my eye, appreciatively eying the swell of her bosom, the curves of her body, the sway of her hips. Occaisionlly, it was so distracting it was nigh impossible to concentrate. If there had been any winsome females to ogle at the Fassa office, I would have accomplished very little at my apprenticeship.  
  
At last count, I was infatuated, to varying degrees, with 25 girls. However, leading the pack by leaps and bounds, were Marlene and Lavender. Their features, their forms were flawless, like the painstaking work of some master craftsman. Their movements were svelte, their voices sweetly enticing. They were goddesses amongst mere mortals, and I was content to grovel at their feet. If hard pressed, I would have to admit that Marlene was the more beautiful of the two. Lavender, however, possessed a liveliness that often eclipsed her more morose cousin.  
  
These were, of course, thoughts that I had never disclosed to anyone. After all, whom had I to confide in? The thought of sharing this with Mother was just plain weird. Telling one of the girls risked gossip, confiding in Annette risked possible condescension I was not comfortable with.   
  
And the other boys? I did not think they would understand. They had yet to show the faintest interest in girls. Given the choice, they would much rather go on and on about the virtues of their steeds than talk about which girls were cute.   
  
Well, that was not quite right. There were boys who lavished attention on girls, but they were Haim' s age and more likely than not to just laugh at me and tell me that Marlene and Lavender were out of my league.  
  
Gazing worshipfully at the two beauties in the moonlight, I suddenly remembered why I had so eagerly joined in on the Penalty game: Lavender had agreed to play. When I saw her cheerfully accepting Helga's invitation to play, it just seemed like the perfect opportunity to obtain the impossible: If I won and she came out the loser, she would have to pay whatever Penalty I asked, even if it were to kiss me...  
  
I shook my head vigorously in an attempt to clear it. I had to have been severely addlepated to entertain thoughts like that. Even as thought-impaired as I was now, I knew that I would never be so bold as to do that in my right mind. No, I might be sharp with my tongue and cutting with my remarks, but when it came to acting out on these inexplicable feelings those girls aroused within me, I was a complete coward.  
  
And I supposed it suited a coward to be doing what I was doing, to be adoring my crushes in the darkness.  
  
Or at least I had been watching them. To my utter dismay, Lavender and Marlene withdrew into their room, and pulled the glass door shut with a click.  
  
With a groan, I let myself flop back against the bench. Disappointed, I stared up at the stars twinkling in the gaps between leaves of the trees behind me and wished that I could be studying another set of heavenly bodies entirely.  
  
"Too bad," I thought, gazing up at the criss cross of branches. "Too bad there's no way I can get any closer... or higher."  
  
And then suddenly I was.  
  
I do not have any recollection whatsoever of how I climbed that tree. Maybe that was a good thing; I have never been particularly skilled at climbing, let alone in the dark. All I knew was that one moment I was looking limb above me, and seemingly the next moment I was straddling it and stealthily scooting forward on it.   
  
No wonder Annette always impressed on me the hazards of mixing alcohol with business. If I was doing this after one drink, who knew what I would agree to in a business setting after multiple ones?  
  
At the moment though, I was too excited about other things to dwell on how vino altered my judgement. From my new vantage point, I was level with the balcony doors. Luckily for me, the girls had not drawn the curtains. Even better, I was hidden, cloaked by darkness and a screen of leaves.  
  
I smiled. What a delightful view. Marlene was sitting at the vanity, and Lavender stood brushing her cousin's gloriously thick golden curls. As she drew the brush along the shining strands, I wondered what they would feel like between my fingers. Would the texture be as soft and silky as they appeared? Though I could no longer hear them with the door shut, I could see them conversing, Lavender's lively speech and Marlene's more languid responses. Lavender smiled and laughed as she played with Marlene's hair, and I wondered how it would feel to have that smile flash just for me. What it would be like to feel those rosy lips against my skin or my own lips? And--what it would feel like to be close to her? Not the like contact we had in our dance lesson with our bodies hid under gloves and layers of clothing and strictly regulated by the rules of the dance. But to be able to touch her the way she was now, clad in only a thin lacy nightgown with her long, dark hair, to let my hands roam freely over her, her hair, her face, and those parts forbidden ...  
  
It was a sweet torment to be there, gazing at those two who were so far beyond my reach (though I was not quite sure exactly what I would do with them even they were within my reach). But it seemed all too soon that Marlene blew out the candles and my nymphs went to their slumber. I spent a long moment staring into that darkened room. It was like lying in bed after waking from a particularly beautiful dream that you never wanted to end and hoping there was a way you could return to it.  
  
Unfortunately for me, the moment had definitely ended, and it was time for me to go. I made my way back to the branch and paused, trying to figure the best way down. It had been different earlier, when the lovely visage of the two cousins had driven all hesitation from my mind. Now all I could see was the considerable distance between me and a potentially bumpy landing.  
  
As I deliberated from my woody perch, I heard something. Footsteps. There was someone outside on the lawn! The rustle of steps in the grass grew louder. A cold sweat broke out over me. What excuse could I possible come up with for this? What if I was caught, exposed as the guilty peeping tom I was? What if it was Prince Nueva? I felt certain that if he saw me now, he would know without a doubt that I had been gazing lustfully at his virgin daughter and niece! Icy dread gripped me at the thought of the fate that could befall me. I clutched the tree trunk tightly and hoped fervently that whoever it was would just pass by and not notice the thunderous pounding of my heart.  
  
Keep going, just keep going. Don't look up. There's nothing here to see.  
  
To my dismay, whoever it was did not just pass, but approached my tree until he was directly beneath me. Eyes squeezed tight, scarcely breathing, I froze, certain I was going to be discovered. With my luck, he would probably throw me out of the tree first and ask questions later.  
  
Seconds passed, but in my panic they seemed like eons. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore I heard:  
  
"Well?"  
  
My eyes snapped open. Wait, that was Indigo's voice.  
  
I glanced down. To my astonishment, it WAS Indigo. And she was not alone. Beside her was Eries, her pale hair washed gray in the moonlight. Wrapped in cloaks, the two girls were sitting on the very bench I had occupied not too long ago.  
  
The girls looked like they were about to launch into an intimate tete a tete. Propriety dictated that evesdropping was not a very gentlemanly thing to do. But here was no simple way for me to excuse myself. However, I reasoned, I had been there first. So, really, they were intruding in on me, even if I had been sneaking looks at their sisters. Therefore, all I honestly could do was quietly sit there, and let them have their chat.  
  
Eries, though, was being reticent. After several moments, Indigo continued, "You keep dropping hints, and then you bring me out here in the middle of the night, and now you have nothing to say?" Despite the words she used, Indigo's tone was coaxing and gentle.  
  
"I- I just don't know where to begin," Eries said finally.  
  
"Why don't you start off with elaborating a little more on that letter you sent me," suggested Indigo. "If I remember right, I think your words were: I think I can find happiness here in Fanelia."  
  
My ears pricked up. Today was the first time that any of us had seen each other since the princesses and their cousins left on the respective journeys. During the party, I had asked Eries about her travels, and she had responded that things had gone well enough. She described the grand ceremonies she had attended, thanked me again for preparing her, and told me about the antique books and scrolls she had brought back for me to express her gratitude. Mention of my think you gifts had driven every other thought out of my head, and I had not pressed her for additional details of her trip.  
  
Eries spoke slowly and reflectively. "You know, when I arrived in Fanelia, that was the last thing I would have expected. To be honest, I was terrified."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Fanelia is just so--different from here. The thought of spending the rest of my life there scared me at first. A lot. It's so--untamed. Most of the land isn't developed, and the capital is the only city. Our fleet barely fit on their landing port. And there's no hint of the ocean. Not even a large lake or pond around. General Vargas being in their greeting party did not help much."  
  
"Who's he?"  
  
"The one who's one of Gaia's Three Master Swordsmen."  
  
"Ah... the secret behind Fanelia's military prowess."  
  
"Yes. Actually, he is just as considerate as any one of our own knights, but he's just so imposing. He's practically the size of a melef. And his scars..." Eries shuddered. "It was all I could do to keep Millerna from ducking underneath Marlene's skirts during the pleasantries."  
  
Indigo sniffed. "Fanelia should have done a better job selecting their honor guard. It doesn't reflect well enough to have their security frightening guests like that, and gentle woman at that."  
  
Eries shook her head. "The General wasn't part of the guard, he's one of the country's five Regents."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
Annoyed, I thought, "Indigo, do you NOT pay any attention in class!?" I nearly spoke the words aloud. However, I caught myself in time, remembering that I was not ACTUALLY part of this conversation.  
  
Instead, I held my tongue as Eries explained, "When a Fanelian king dies, his heir officially succeeds him only after passing the Fanelian Rite of Succession. Because King Goau's heir was so young when he died, the welfare of the kingdom was entrusted to five interim Regents: General Vargas, Fanelia's other three head samurai, and the King's widow."  
  
"The Queen--what was she like?" asked Indigo.  
  
My own interest piqued. I, too, was curious of Eries' impressions of the person destined to be her mother-in-law.  
  
"She's very beautiful, in kind of an exotic way," Eries began. "She was courteous and provided us with everything we needed and give us access to the entire castle. But..."  
  
"But?" Indigo echoed.  
  
But?  
  
"But she was always distant. It was very subtle, but when I was around her, I always felt as if she didn't really want to be doing what she was doing. Like she would just rather be somewhere else. She always saw that we were attended to, but only spent with us the absolute minimum time possible before excusing herself."  
  
"Well, she is a queen. She probably had other state matters that were distracting her that she needed to attend to," Indigo reasoned.  
  
"You would think that. But from what I learned, she doesn't play that active role in Fanelia's affairs at all. Even when I talked to her and specifically asked her about the status of various matters, she did not seem to have a good grasp of what was going on and kept referring to me to one of the other Regents or to a councilor."  
  
"Well, it's only been about two years since her husband died. It's probably hard for her, being a young widow, left with two children to raise and a kingdom to run and all."  
  
"That's true..." Eries paused thoughtfully. "That's probably why she was treating me so oddly."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It's hard to describe, but it seemed like every time she looked at me, to stride the size me up. As if she were trying to decide if I was worth keeping around or not."  
  
"Eries, you deal with snobs all the time--"  
  
"I know, but this was--well, it was just different. I couldn't just let it go the way I usually do. This time--this time, I really did feel less a princess and more like a slave being scrutinized on the seller's block."  
  
"Excuse me? Wasn't it Fanelia that approached Asturia about this whole marriage business?"  
  
"Yes, and Fanelia does have slightly more to gain from a Fanelia-Asturia alliance. But, I guess she's just protective. Her children are all she's got left, and any mother would want to ensure her child's future. I suppose I can understand that."  
  
"But you would think that her son wouldn't be able to do better than Asturian princess though," said Indigo peevishly. "For nearly a doesn't seem very enticing to me, Eries. Backwater kingdom out of the wilderness, freaky warrior-Regents, and a possessive future mother-in-law. Humph. I thought you said you thought Fanelia would make happy."  
  
"I did, didn't I?" Eries said mysteriously.   
  
"So what changed your mind?"  
  
"Hmmm, let me think... what would change my mind, I wonder?" She was getting a kick out of keeping Indigo in suspense.  
  
"Eries!"  
  
"You know, it's strange... the first person to make me think that I might like Fanelia wasn't anyone in the royal family or their entourage. It was a little cat-girl."  
  
"Cat-girl?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Merle. When made our way through town, General Vargas rode right alongside us, and his presence was intimidating enough to keep the spectators at arm's distance. But, as we were entering the castle, I saw her by a parapet. Instead of running away, she waved to us and smiled right at the General as if she knew him. When I asked him about her, he told me that he had found her two years ago, orphaned and alone, near a ravaged beastman settlement. He brought her back to the capital, and she's been living there ever since."  
  
"When I saw her, how happy she was and how especially happy she was to see General Vargas, I knew that there was kindness there, and that maybe I didn't have to expect the worst."  
  
"Merle, huh? So she was adopted into the General's household? Or by one of the castle staff?"  
  
"No, technically, she's a companion to Prince Van."  
  
"A cat-girl? You're joking!"  
  
"I'm not. But from what I've seen, they're more like brother and sister than anything else. Prince Van's Millerna's age, and Merle's two years younger. And Millerna got along famously with both of them."  
  
"Really? Well, that's remarkable in itself."  
  
"Well, they did fight once. But that was only because Millerna wanted to take Merle back to Asturia with us. Van, of course, wouldn't hear of it. We literally had to break up a tug-of-war where poor Merle was the rope."  
  
"That's a little more of what I was expecting."  
  
"Well, that was the exception. Other than that, Millerna was extremely well-behaved. Prince Van was a good influence on her. He's energetic, that's for certain, but he knows his manners. You should have seen the way he carried himself during the formal introductions. He's sweet tempered and very considerate and always looking for Merle. And it's so adorable the way he looks up to his older brother."  
  
"Speaking of older brother," said Indigo, stressing her words meaningfully, "I'd like to know what you thought of Van's older brother."  
  
"Yes... Folken..."  
  
I blinked. She called him Folken. Not Prince Folken, but simply Folken, without the title. It was remarkable that she was speaking of him of such familiarity, especially since he was four years her senior and they had only just met. But there was also the way she had said his name...  
  
"Folken's--the most exceptional young man I have ever had the fortune to meet," she said shyly.  
  
With a suppressed squeal of delight, Indigo nearly knocked down her cousin in a fiercely enthusiastic bear hug. "Oh Eries, I'm so happy for you!"  
  
"Indigo, hush! You'll wake the entire villa!"  
  
Amused, I watched Eries alternate between trying to control her own laughter and struggling to wriggle out of Indigo's embrace. Indigo had changed and matured in many respects over the last few years, the she had never lost her love of storybook endings. For the way she was carrying on, she was seeing "happily ever after" written all over Eries and her Fanelian Prince  
  
"What's he like!? What's he like!?" Indigo asked once she had calmed down some. "Is he cute?"  
  
"Cute? No, cute's not the word. However, handsome... Folken definitely is handsome... and tall... and strong...."   
  
Sniper, unlike Indigo, was not one to gush, but hearing her use such glowing terms to describe the young Fanelian Prince, she was coming pretty close to gushing. It was with a touch of envy that I listened to Eries describe his virtues. I wondered if I would ever affect anyone in such a way.   
  
"--skilled with a sword. It was impressive watching him hold his own against General Vargas. But he doesn't really enjoy it. He told me that, given the choice, he would much rather spend his time studying natural science than sparring in a dojo. But, he has his responsibility, his kingdom to protect, and so he has to learn to fight. Still, I doubt that he would ever fight if he could come up with a peaceful alternative. He's so gentle. And watching him play with Van was so touching. Folken has a lot of obligations but he spends nearly all of his free time with them, and Van practically worships him. And Folken has the sweetest smile..."  
  
"He's special to you."  
  
"Yes." Then, after a brief pause, she added, "And he made me feel special , too."  
  
"How?"  
  
Several moments of thoughtful silence passed. Finally Eries said, "I love Marlene. I adore my sister, and I don't wish anything but the best for her. But I'm nowhere near equaling her. When she's around, no one notices me--"  
  
"Eries, that's not true--"  
  
"Yes it is," Eries insisted. "I've always been in her shadow and always will be. This trip just made it all the more obvious. I wasn't Princess Eries, I was Princess Marlene's sister. And that was only when they did notice me. Even when she was indisposed she still drew more attention than I did."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Unlike Lavender, traveling doesn't agree with Marlene. She had problems throughout the entire trip. She had stomachache in Daedalus, headache in Basram, fever in Freid and so one and so on. Part of me felt bad for her, but part of me also wondered how much of it was real and how much of it was just her making excuse so she didn't have to be sociable. Every place we went she would make at most about half her appearances and spent the remainder of the time convalescent in her room. Meanwhile, I would be out doing my best to fulfill our obligations without her. But you know what? They'd just brush me off or they would pepper me with questions about Marlene. "What does she like?" "What is she like?" "Is the Princess Marlene betrothed yet?" "Could you arrange for a private meeting with your sister?" "Would you take her a letter?"  
  
Eries laughed bitterly while Indigo sat with her mouth shut, unable to think of anything to say. As hurtful as it was, it was the true. Eries just couldn't compare to her older sister. It was not surprising to me the highbrow adults had ignored her.  
  
"Between cooing over how adorable Millerna was and being dazzled by Marlene, everyone we met hardly found me worth paying attention to."  
  
"Everyone, that is, except for Folken."  
  
"I was so scared when Queen Varie took us to the castle to meet her sons. I was scared of what Folken might be like, but I was also scared that he would look at me and be disappointed. That he would see me as a poor bargain. That he would despise me and try to talk his mother into trying to arrange for Marlene instead of me."  
  
"And?" Indigo gently prompted.  
  
"And I was very pleasantly surprised. Yes, I could tell he was struck by Marlene's looks, but he gave all three of us equal attention during the formal introductions."  
  
"Marlene retired to her room almost immediately afterwards, complaining of earache. I was expecting him to follow her, hover over her sickroom or something like that. But he didn't. Instead, he invited Millerna and me to join him and Van and Merle in one of the castle gardens. It wasn't long before Millerna was joining Van and Merle in their games, and while three of them played, Folken and I talked. At first, it was both of us just being polite. After all, we knew exactly why I was visiting. But the longer we talked, the more we relaxed, and the more I liked him."  
  
"He wanted to learn more about me. And he actually listened to me. Really listened to me when I told him about my interests, about Asturia, my family, my impressions of Fanelia. And he took my questions seriously when I asked him about Fanelia--the land, the people, their concerns, their values. He even invited me to the council meeting to introduce me to some of the advisers when I started asking him about the particulars of Fanelia's administrative policies."  
  
"Ugh, that's not romantic at all."  
  
I chuckled inwardly. Romantic? No. But it definitely was Eries for you. For her, it was probably reassuring and gratifying that Prince Folken both recognized and respected her intelligence and level of maturity.  
  
As Eries continue to describe her week in Fanelia, it became apparent that the artless, insightful Prince had won her respect and admiration as well. At length, Indigo finally asked the question that I knew was burning in her mind. "Do you love him?"  
  
There was a long moment of silence. "Love... that's such a huge, heavy word." Eries sighed. "I don't know if it's love, or that I'm in love with him. But I can say that I'm very fond of him and that I already value our friendship deeply."  
  
"And how does he feel about you?"  
  
"He likes me enough to promise to write regularly--to stay in touch and to get to know each other better. Beyond that... well, to be truthful, half the time he treats the like a royal peer and the other half he treats me like a younger sister."  
  
I could see that. Eries' keen intellect and political candidates juxtaposed with her physical appearance would certainly lead to such an outcome. Unlike her agemate Indigo, who was budding along quite nicely into womanhood (and incidentally had made my personal Top 10 List of Females to Fantasize About) , Eries had all the physique and sex appeal of a flag pole. I think I probably would be more disturbed is the 15-year-old Prince had looked at her in any way other than a younger sister.  
  
"But I know he's serious about this marriage business."  
  
"How? What did he say?" Indigo pressed.  
  
"The night before I left Fanelia, he took me aside privately. He asked me how I felt about the betrothal, whether I had fears or doubts about coming to Fanelia. Or about marrying him. He told me that while the alliance would be beneficial for both our kingdoms and that he would be honored to have me as his wife, he didn't want me forced into marrying him if I had serious objections."  
  
"I told him... I told him that I had come to like very much and I had no reservations at all. After that, he became even more serious. He told me that he wanted to be completely open and honest with me. He wanted me to know exactly what kind of man I would be marrying. And so... he took the risk in sharing some things about himself that his advisers much rather would have had him keep under wraps."  
  
"Eries--"  
  
"Indigo, can you keep a secret?"  
  
"If you ask me, I swear I won't tell a soul," Indigo promised solemnly.  
  
Eries spoke carefully. "I haven't told anyone else about this--not even Marlene. She kind of looks down at Folken already. She thinks he's unrefined and too much of the rustic. This would probably make her think worse of the match."  
  
"Isn't that bad?" Concern was apparent in Indigo's voice.  
  
"The fact that he didn't hide this from me makes him a better man than those who look down on him for it," Eries stated flatly.  
  
"He..." Eries' voice dropped so low that Indigo had to lean in to hear. As did I-  
  
--and then I was abruptly reminded by the gut-dropping sensation of falling that I was not part of their conversation.  
  
"Oh yes, stupid," I thought to myself, as I slipped seemingly in slow motion off my branch, "you're in a TREE." Twigs and leaves snagged at my hair, skin, and clothes as I fell. I flailed, trying to grasp hold of something, anything. I managed to catch hold of a branch, and nearly dislocated my shoulder in the process. Unfortunately, the limb was too slender to bear the force of my momentum. It bent and then snapped, sending me plummeting to the ground.  
  
"Oof!" I landed with a jarring thump, still clutching the broken branch. Well, at the very least had slowed my descent even if it had not broken my fall.  
  
One would have had to have been blind and deaf not to notice an entrance like that, and as it happened, the girls were neither.  
  
They screeched in unison at my sudden appearance, complete with a small shower of twigs, just a few pieces before them. Sniper, however, recognized me almost instantly and recovered swiftly. "Dryden?!" she exclaimed, dumbfounded.  
  
"Dryden?" echoed Indigo. Her fright was immediately replaced with ire. "Dryden Fassa, what in blazes--?!"  
  
Instinctively, I backed away from the two, who were growing more serious by the second. As I scooted backwards on my hands, feet, and rear, I noted that I had apparently managed to survive the fall intact and unharmed. I just hoped that I was going to survive this next encounter intact and unharmed.  
  
Quickly, I evaluated my options. Escape, either back up the tree or by running away, was out of the question; Indigo was faster than me, and Eries would out-climb me. That left either lying, playing down, or telling the truth. Try as I might, not even a single plausible fib was coming to me, and I knew that just playing the idiot would serve only to incense the girls further. Well, they say honesty is the best policy...  
  
I fervently hoped that that would be the case as Eries and Indigo marched menacingly towards me. I cowered slightly under Indigo's unflinching glare. "What do you think you're doing out here?!" she demanded.  
  
"Er...well, I--"  
  
I gasped. Sniper did not even give me a chance to finish, but grabbed me by the lapels of my shirt. "How much did you hear?" Her voice dripped venom.  
  
I swallowed. Maybe I could lighten this up a bit. "Ahh-- I just wanted to let you know, Sniper, that I'm very happy for you. And I told you that going to Fanelia wasn't something you had to worry--ACK!"  
  
Maybe not. I suddenly found myself very short of breath as Sniper, displeased with my answer, grabbed my cravat and yanked the knot up against my windpipe. Desperately, I tried to pry her hands off my cravat-turned-noose, but her grip was like steel.  
  
"Now you listen, and you listen good, Dryden Fassa," she snarled.  
  
"ackackgaspflail" [Translation: I'm listening! I'm listening!]  
  
"You will not to breathe a word of anything you heard to anyone. Understand?"  
  
"wheezestruggle" [Translation: Okay! Yes!]  
  
"Not to any of the boys, not to Marlene, not even to your own mother. No one. You'll forget you heard anything tonight."  
  
"gaspflailwheeze" [Translation: Done deal! Forgotten! Now let me breathe already!]  
  
"Otherwise..." Eries' tone turned deadly. "If I find out you've crossed me--and I WILL--you'll wish you'd never been born." With that she shoved me roughly away from her. I fell hard against the ground but was only too glad to escape her stranglehold. My fingers scrambled frantically to loosen my tie, and it was an overwhelming relief when air finally reached my burning lungs.  
  
Indignant, Sniper, arms akimbo, stood over my sprawled, gasping form. "Do you understand?"  
  
I nodded vigorously.  
  
"For your sake, I hope you do. Indigo, let's go." With a final warning glare, the girls left in a huff.  
  
Rubbing my for abused next, I watched them walk away. Once they were safely out of sight, I let out a sigh of relief and fell back spread eagled onto the ground. Staring up at the twinkling stars above, I marveled at the ordeal I had just underwent. Apparently there was some truth to that phrase about women's scorn being like serpent's teeth.  
  
Girls. They're mighty attractive, but after an experience like that, celibacy becomes awful appealing. 


	4. Age 11:Eries part 2

As promised....   
  
Posted July 20 , 2004  
--==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Hey, Marix!"  
  
"Why, hello there, young Fassa."  
  
The aged otterman straightened up from where he had been restocking clams in a wooden bin. He smiled delightedly, wiping his damp hands on his canvas apron. "What can I do for you today?"   
  
I held up a scroll. "Uncle Larish has an order for you. I've got the deposit right here."  
  
"Certainly, certainly," replied Marix. Turning to his assistant, he called out, "Nakkie, mind the front while I take care of young Fassa here."  
  
"Yup!" chirped Nakkie, taking up where Marix had left off replenishing the stocks of shellfish displayed in the front of their market stall.  
  
Marix ushered me to a table in the rear of the canopied booth where he transacted their larger ticket items. The old vendor was from a otterman settlement on the coast that made its livelihood from marine products. They mainly harvested fish, shellfish, and seaweed to bring to market, but they produced more valuable items as well. Most other purchasers avoided placing advance orders with the otterman tribe as they rarely, if ever, delivered their goods on time. They're honest folk, but chronically tardy. Although it meant extra work, the Fassa trading house used them regularly as a supplier and found ways to compensate for their lackadaisical attitude towards firm deadlines as the quality of their semiprecious stones was hard to beat.  
  
"Let's see..." Marix's graying whiskers twitched as he adjusted his spectacles. He broke the seal of the purchase order and perused its contents. "Coral... mother of pearl... agate... hmmm."  
  
It was always fun to visit this particular vendor. I enjoyed interacting with the different peoples and beastpeople that came to peddle their wares in the Palas Marketplace. Ottermen were especially fun though. They were perennially cheerful and extremely playful. In fact, only the elders of the community were entrusted with the task of taking the village's goods to market because anyone younger was too frolicsome for the task. A middle-aged otterman father of five was still flighty enough to abandon his goods at the bazaar and hop into a nearby canal for an impromptu swim. Even as seasoned as Marix was, grandotter to twelve grandpups, he had a definite fun loving streak and merry attitude that clearly manifested itself in his business dealings.  
  
Marix finished scanning the document. "No problem," he assured me. "We should be able to pull all this together in three weeks."  
  
"That means six," I thought to myself. According to Uncle Larish, the rule of thumb with otterpeople was to always allot for twice the amount of time they asked for. In Uncle Larish's forty years of dealing with Marix's folk, only once had a shipment arrived on the day promised. I did not think that the phrase "rush order" even existed in their vocabulary. Uncle would probably interpret an early delivery from ottermen as a sign of the end of the world.  
  
To Marix, I replied, "Sounds good." Our drop dead due date for this stuff was two months from now. I produced my money pouch to count out the deposit as Marix pulled out a ledger and papers to finalize the transaction.  
  
"So, young Fassa, have you been having a good scamp about the market today? See anything exciting?" asked Marix as his pen busily scratched over the requisite paperwork.  
  
"I wish." I scowled grumpily. Market Days were the best days of the week. Some amount of commerce always took place in Palas, but Emerald and Ruby, Palas' Market Days, were the two days a week where you were near guaranteed to find people from just about any place you could think of with just about everything you could possibly imagine. Not surprisingly, they were the busiest days for our office. On Emerald Market Days, I was practically chained to my post in the office. However, on Ruby Market Days like today, I only had to work a half-day shift and then was released to explore the bazaar as I wished. For that, I always looked forward to Ruby Days with great anticipation.   
  
It was not wholly goodwill on the part of the elders though. As a business, we had to stay abreast of all that was going on, and sometimes the best way to catch wind of the latest news, gossip, ideas, or scheme was just to go out and mingle in the masses. It was free time with a purpose. The practice kept morale up in the office, and every once in a while, we would score a windfall in the most unexpected of places--the most famous of which was Ein Fassa's now legendary serendipitous discovery at the bird fancier's row. Who would have guessed that a trip for gourmet birdseed would result in a lucrative new trade route for the family?  
  
Unfortunately, today my customary leisure time had been usurped by something else.  
  
"I've been buried under financial statements all morning long, and after I'm finished here, I have to head straight for the palace for a dance lesson," I groused. Lady Miriam's dance classes took place on another day of the week, but this was a special rehearsal. Foreign dignitaries were coming to town to renew a trade pact and some stupid someone (may a million moths infest your wardrobe, whoever you are) got the bright idea that it would be "oh so wonderful to have the young people perform some traditional Asturian dances to entertain the guests." To be honest, it didn't concern me at first. Originally, other boys were selected to take part in the choreographed piece. But this was before the melef training accident five days ago, the catastrophe that would go down in the Squires Academy annals as its worst disaster ever. Let's just say that modern technology could go a long way in amplifying ineptness. When the dust finally cleared, not only was there extensive damage to melefs and the training area, but numerous students were injured, including half of Lady Miriam's male dancers. A mad scramble for substitutes ensued. Lucky me, I was on the list. I didn't want to volunteer, Lady Miriam didn't want to pick me, but I was one of the few uninjured boys in our class tall enough to pair with the girls that had lost their partners.  
  
"Sounds like fun." Marix chuckled, brimming with amusement.  
  
I rolled my eyes in response. Obviously, he had never had to learn a four-part dance routine in three rushed rehearsals. Natasha Kim was nice and all, but even she was becoming exasperated with having her toes trod upon with such regularity.  
  
Shortly thereafter, I took my leave of the ottermen's booth with a neatly folded receipt tucked into my money pouch. I would have much preferred to loiter about Marix's stall a bit longer to see if he had brought in any pearls today or to poke at the aggressive-looking pincered shellfish scrapping about in his display tubs. Even helping Nakkie clean up the ambergris that was leaking out of a damaged earthenware stock jug would have been more enjoyable than what awaited me at the palace. But I had to go so I had to go.  
  
The wind picked up suddenly, whipping my thick velvet cloak behind me. The crisp breeze pulled banners taut, set awnings flapping, and sent dried leaves skittering through the streets. The outdoor vendors scurried about securing their tarps and goods even as they continued to hawk their wares.  
  
"What a way to waste an afternoon," I thought, looking longingly at the activity bustling around me as my feet continued en route to class. The urge to dawdle was overwhelming. To my right was a gaggle of foreign academics bickering in an outdoor cafe; down the road a bit, a novice vendor had just had his entire stock of calendars blown into a canal by the sudden gust; and crossing over the next bridge in a neon orange frock was Eries--  
  
--!?!  
  
It was unmistakably her. Any doubts about her identity were eliminated by her dress. No girl that age and that size would be wearing anything that ridiculously old-fashioned unless she was part of our little dance recital. I was surprised that she would let herself be seen in public in such a laughable get up though. Odder yet, what was she doing way out here instead of waiting for practice to start at the palace?  
  
She was nearing the intersection with the street I was on. I hastened my pace and waved to get her attention. Just then, she stepped onto a muddy spot. She lost her footing and fell headlong.  
  
I winced. Yowch! She had slammed onto the pavement and tumbled some distance before finally coming to a stop. Her fussy frilly dress with its ornate green trim was good as ruined now. Her aunt was going to be furious. Well, at least all those crazy ruffles down the front probably softened her fall somewhat. Shouting her name, I hurried over to help her up. Much to my astonishment (and that of everyone else who had witnessed her spill), she scrambled up almost immediately.   
  
"Sniper?! Wait!" But she did not so much as turn her head. Off she sped, ignoring the damage done to her dress, oblivious to my voice -- and heedless of the glittering object that fell from her pocket.  
  
Stunned, I simply stood and gaped. That was... UNUSUAL. My brain started to crowd with questions, but at the rate she was going it looked like I would have to wait until I could corner her after dance practice to get some answers. And if she was tightlipped about it, the trinket she had dropped provided me with some bargaining power. I stooped to snatch it up.  
  
I gasped.  
  
Hastily, I stuffed it securely into my cloak pocket while frantically scanning the crowds for Sniper. Fortunately for me, her garish costume was easy to pick out in the crowds. She was heading for the arched bridge of the next canal.  
  
I sprinted after her.  
  
Now, you would think it would be child's play for me to catch up to Sniper even if she did have a head start. After all, I was so much taller than her. Plus, it was not as if I had just crashlanded onto hard pavement. But it wasn't, for one simple fact:  
  
I was not a runner.  
  
Let me clarify that. I HATED running. Walking was fine; I could stroll for as long you liked, and I would occasionally sprint short distances (usually to escape someone's wrath). But running? People have always assumed from my height and build that I was marathon material, but I have always astounded them with my appalling lack of speed and stamina. It was a never-ending source of irritation for my office mentors as the task of messenger/delivery boy--by office tradition--fell to youngest person on staff, who, currently, was me. It completely baffled (and exasperated) them how a young man my age could be such a wimp and a turtle with something as easy as running a letter across town. Long distance running for me was the distance between my bedroom and the dining room table.   
  
We were barely out of the district when I felt knives of pain in my abdomen. By the time we were out of the merchant's quarter, I was blowing like an overpressurized engine. I was straining to overtake Sniper, but my best efforts only resulted in barely keeping up with her. The only advantage my long legs provided was that it kept Sniper, a bright spot threading through the crowds, in my field of vision.  
  
Eventually, the tap-tap-tapping of my leather soles against paving stones gave way to the crunch of footsteps on packed earth. I was tiring and losing ground. The only reason I had not yet lost sight of her was because the crowds had thinned down to just the occasional passerby. We were well into the outskirts of town, far from the market center. And she kept going.  
  
"Sniper, where are you going!?" I screamed inside my head. I would have screamed it aloud if not for the fact that I could barely suck enough oxygen to keep moving.  
  
This was getting curiouser and curiouser. Even in her worst moments, I could not imagine her being so careless as to drop something this valuable onto the street. Also, try as I might, I could not come up with any plausible reason for her to be wearing that dress and skipping out on class in this part of town. There with something going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it if it was the last thing I did.  
  
Unfortunately, at the rate we were going, it felt like it really might be the last thing I did.  
  
Ow, ow, ow, pain... Maybe I'll be lucky and she'll trip again so I can catch up to-- WOOAH, pothole! ... maybe I should make sure I don't end up falling. 'Kay, she just turned left at that red house on the corner--YIKES! Get away, you stupid mutt! Agh! Same to you! I wasn't going to your stupid yard anyway! Great, I need to hustle before I lose track .... Red house, left turn.... WHAT?! A HILL?! Aw, Sniper, why did you have to go uphill? Man, how can things possibly get worse?   
  
As if in response to that last thought of mine, the wind picked up. As if the incline weren't enough, a strong head wind blew, making the ascent doubly difficult. I gritted my teeth and charged full throttle up the hill.  
  
My limbs burned. Blood pounded in my ears. Cold air windburned my face, but my linen shirt was near drenched with sweat. My body screamed for a break, but I kept going. There was no way I was going to lose her.  
  
Somehow, despite the slope, despite the wind, through sheer determination I crested the hill without a single lapse in speed. My relations at the office would have been astounded.  
  
Determination, however, had its limits. My legs promptly gave out on me as soon as I reached the top. I fell, huffing and puffing, on my hands and knees.  
  
And then, wouldn't you know it, the wind ceased.  
  
There were times in my life that I felt like some cosmic someone was having a jolly good load of fun at my expense. This was one of them.  
  
Wearily, I lifted my head to scan the surroundings for Sniper. Much to my relief, I spotted her right away.  
  
The uphill path had led us to a grassy plateau with a spectacular vista of the ocean. I had never been here before, but as best as I could tell from nearby landmarks, we were on the outskirts of town near the Royal Park grounds. The path forked at the plateau. A larger branch continued in the direction of the Park, and a smaller track wound into an ancient grove of trees. Eries stood at the fork with her back to me. From my vantage, I could not tell if she were resting, contemplating the view, or lost.  
  
Well, whatever, this was my chance to get her attention. Picking myself up, I took a deep breath and shouted, "SNIPER, WAIT UP!"   
  
--only to have a sudden gust of wind blow my words right back at me.  
  
As if on cue, Eries began moving again.  
  
This was enough to drive one mad.  
  
Growling in frustration, I staggered after her.  
  
To my surprise, she did not take the larger path to the Royal Park, but the one through the trees. At least she was no longer running, but walking briskly with a slight limp. That was fine for me as that was all I could manage at the moment. Between the damp slippery ground and my wobbly legs, anything more would have been just asking for a nasty tumble into the brush. My brain, however, was still running at full speed, wondering what her final destination could be and hoping that it was close. My dance shoes, although light weight and probably the most comfortable things I owned to run in, were not made for extended outdoor use. I was certain to get a scolding about the stains and damage to the fine suede once I got home.  
  
The leafy canopy shading the path ended abruptly. Sudden sunlight dazzled my eyes. Shading my face with one hand, I halted, waiting for my vision to adjust. And then I nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized where I was.  
  
Stretching down a grassy slope in neat ordered rows were headstones. They gleamed in the afternoon sun like so many marble sentinels.  
  
I swallowed hard, unnerved at winding up at the cemetery. No wonder I had had no idea of where we were going. I had never been here before. Never had occasion to. Eries' dress was a bright splash of color amongst the weathered stone. She sat on a bench with her face buried in her hands. The thought that the only other people here were dead rattled me a little. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.  
  
But I had not come this far to back out now.  
  
The rustle of my footsteps on the damp grass announced my approach, but Eries did not even look up. I stopped right by her bench. When I got no response, I spoke to her softly. "Eries. Eries, it's me, Dryden."  
  
Almost inaudibly, she moaned. "Just go away..."  
  
"Eries, you--"  
  
Eries turned on me viciously. "WILL YOU JUST LEAVE-- "  
  
Her words died on her lips when she saw what I held out to her.  
  
Gems sparkled in the sunlight. I was no expert on jewels by any stretch, but even a neophyte could tell that these sapphires and rubies were of exceptional cut, size, and quality. They winked from their settings on a golden clasp. It was a valuable piece for certain, but an unusual one . I had never seen the likes of it. The jeweled clasp secured what appeared to be a macrame decoration of some kind. Blue, red, and yellow strands intertwined to form an elaborate, artful four-looped knot with a trailing tassel. And suspended by a tiny golden chain dangling alongside the tassel hung a single white feather.  
  
Eries' hand flew to her pocket only to find it empty. Her entire being seemed to crumple just then. I had figured that the gravity of this realization would sober her up, but I did not expect this. She turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of the tumult of emotions on her face.  
  
"Eries?" I said nervously.  
  
I spoke her name a second time. And a third. Finally, she looked up, but not at me. Her eyes seemed transfixed by the object I held out to her. Reverently, she reached out for it and cradled it in her hands as if it were a kitten or a small bird.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. But her words were not directed to me.  
  
The colorful object bore smudges from its impact on the muddy streets of the Market. Eries spread it out on her lap and, to my surprise, began to carefully wipe off the speckles of dirt marring the feather. Why wasn't she checking to see that all the jewels were accounted for or inspecting the clasp for damage? After all, wasn't that the most valuable part of this trinket? Certainly, the gems were what caught my attention when I first laid eyes upon it. But she was ignoring them for a feather?  
  
Now that I had a better look though, it was a rather unusual feather. It was pure white--which wasn't unusual--but the size... I could not think of a white bird with feathers that large. Then again, I was hard pressed to think of a bird of any color with feathers that large.  
  
Amazingly enough, despite being dropped and its rough ride in my cloak pocket, the feather had remained undamaged. Eries gently ran her finger over the delicate snow-white barbs. Without looking up, she asked in a low voice, "Dryden, do you know what this is?"   
  
I settled myself carefully beside her. "No." I had been dying to know this entire time, but now was fearful of the answer. The creepy surroundings did not help any.  
  
Her voice sounded oddly detached as she spoke. "It's a hilaine. It's a favor. They're all different colors and different materials, but they share the same four looped knot that represents lo--- It's given to warriors before they go to battle. A reminder of the one who made it waiting for his return. It's Fanelian..." .  
  
Fanelian?!   
  
Her finger traced down the quill of the feather where it lay atop of the blue, red, and pale yellow silken tassel strings. Wait--now that I was closer, I could see that there was something different about the yellow. I blinked. Unlike its blue and red counterparts, the fibers of the yellow cords separated into several individual strands ... strands as straight and fine and pale as the hair pulled over Eries's shoulder.  
  
"I made it. For Folken."  
  
My stomach twisted at that name. Since that very eventful night at Tanglewood, never once had Eries or I (or Indigo for that matter) mentioned that incident again. The silent agreement always hovered there though. If the conversation even remotely turned towards Fanelia, I always got very clear (if silent) reminders from both of them. They were so well-timed that no one else would ever notice, but they were uncomfortably evident for me. For all their surreptitiousness, they were amazingly intense--I often felt as if their eyes were burning holes right through me. I could take a hint and prudently kept my mouth shut. Besides, it was just a simple matter of time before Eries' betrothal was publicly announced and became the talk of the kingdom.  
  
But now for her to be speaking to me so openly about this... The atmosphere grew increasingly uncomfortable, and I shifted restlessly on the bench.  
  
"I... it's pretty. I'm sure he'll like it a lot," I said. It was an inane statement, but I was desperate for something, anything, to fill the vacuum of awkward silence.  
  
"He won't see it. He's dead. A dragon ate him."  
  
I inhaled sharply. Dead? Something clicked in my brain, and I remembered a comment one of my cousins had made once--something about how Fanelia's kingship rite bordered on barbaric...  
  
She traced over the different colors of the braided knot. "I wanted... to give this to him. Ever since Merle told me about it in Fanelia. Maybe it was silly and stupid, but I thought it was perfect. Red for Fanelia. Blue for Asturia." She fingered the length of one of the blond tassel strands. "Me." Her hand brushed over the feather. "And Folken."  
  
That last part puzzled me. But I decided not to dwell on the feather's symbolism too much as it seemed very personal and private.  
  
"It's all bound together, the way he and I and our kingdoms were... even if it wasn't of our choice, it was still --I thought it could be a beautiful thing."  
  
"I thought--we both thought we had more time. But then the signs came and he had to go." Her hands clenched the opposite ends of the hilaine. "He wrote me, told me as soon as he received word from the seers. I tried so hard to get it to him in time. I tried. I'd been working on it ever since I came back to Asturia, but I wasn't fast enough. I wanted him to have it with him when he went to fight. I wanted him to know..." Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks.  
  
"He never knew about it. He never got it. It arrived two days too late. He had already left for the Dragon Forest. And no one ever saw him again. Lord Vargas and his men, they looked for him, but the only thing they found was his sword." Eries swiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Lord Vargas arrived at the palace today. He wanted to tell me in person what happened and return it to me with his regrets." Her voice broke, and she began to sniffle.  
  
The twisting in my stomach worked itself into a full-fledged knot. I wanted to comfort her. But how? Would you say to something like this? What did you do when a dream was irretrievably gone? For all my cleverness and schooling, I felt incredibly useless.  
  
"I'm sorry," I said lamely, offering my handkerchief to Eries, who was wiping ineffectually at her eyes with a dainty, lacy bit of cloth that looked like it was designed more for decoration than function.  
  
Wordlessly, Eries took the handkerchief. Pressing it against her face, she took in several deep shaky breaths as she sought to regain her composure.   
  
It felt wrong to watch her cry so I looked away and was abruptly reminded of my--err--unique surroundings. I willed the goosebumps crawling on my skin to go away and concentrated on the ocean beyond the stone-studded hillside.  
  
"What am I doing here?" I thought as I stared at the seabirds gliding lazily in the distance. I wondered again if that cosmic someone was playing another joke on me. I did not need to look at my timepiece to know that I was very extremely late for dance practice now. Rehearsal was probably half over by now. Lady Miriam was going to have my head. And for what? Granted, I was not particularly eager to be hitting the ballroom dance floor, but sitting in the graveyard with a teary-eyed girl who had just had her almost-fiance eaten by a dragon was not what you would call a rollicking time.  
  
But Eries was my friend. Awkward or not, I couldn't just leave her crying here. I mentally berated myself for my lack of consoling skills. My modus operandi for glum atmospheres was to joke around to lighten the mood. To do that now, though, would be in horribly bad taste. Not to mention insensitive. Some friend I was--  
  
I started, almost falling off my seat at the sound of her voice. Man, everything here had me on pins and needles. "Uh... what?" I said stupidly.  
  
"I said, thank you." Much calmer now, she was holding out my handkerchief to me. I shook my head, indicating she should keep it.  
  
"Thank you," she repeated. "And thanks also, for this." The chain clinked softly as she held up the Fanelian token by the top loop of its intricate knot. The tassel and feather swung slowly in midair. Her eyes followed the motion back and forth as if mesmerized. "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost it. How did you--?" She turned to look questioningly at me.  
  
As if I had any idea. "Good timing?" I shrugged. "I happened to be near Varro Bridge when you fell, and I happened to notice you dropped something. Honestly, I knew it was valuable, but I had no idea how important it was. Maybe someone's looking out for you." Even if I was being physically tormented in the process. "What will you do with it?" I asked as Eries carefully slid the hilaine back into her pocket.  
  
"I don't know. But from now on I'll make sure I treat it with the respect it deserves." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. "I don't know what came over me. I nearly lost the hilaine, and I've been completely rotten to everyone and everything today. Including you. I'm sorry about that." She looked up at me with contrition in her eyes. Abashed by her apology, I quickly blurted that it was not necessary, especially given the circumstances.  
  
However, she seemed set on chiding herself. "I also shouldn't have rushed out of the palace the way I did. I practically ran out on Lord Vargas. And after he came all this way, too. Even if I'm hurting, I know he feels it more. The look on his face when he told me... you would have thought he'd lost a son instead of a liege. And the Queen, I can't even imagine what she's going through right now. And Van...Folken was both a father and a brother to him. Poor Van..."  
  
Poor Eries...   
  
As she continued her self-rebuke, I could almost see her withdrawing into herself, hiding own her grief as she spoke of the grief of others. It was hard to watch her slide the mask back on, especially since I had just seen what lay beneath . I had a hunch why she was doing it though. Very few people knew of her potential engagement to Folken Lacour de Fanel, and fewer still (I could only think of Indigo, myself, and possibly Marlene) realized that her feelings for the prince were more than superficial. For her to be openly distraught over what most thought to be the death of a near stranger would only raise questions and start more probing than she would want. The most she could openly do would be to sympathize with the bereaved family's tragic loss even as she mourned inside.  
  
That crazy wind that had been blowing intermittently all day returned. It whistled past, whipping our hair behind us. Eries shivered.  
  
I stood up and held out a hand to her. "Come on. We should head back. It's getting cold, and Lady Miriam's probably worried." That was probably the understatement of the year. She probably had half the palace guards looking for Eries by now.  
  
For a long moment, Eries stared wordlessly at my hand. Then, to my consternation, she shook her head.   
  
"Eries--"  
  
"Please. I just need a little more time." She pressed a hand to her forehead as if she had a headache.  
  
But it was not her head that was hurting. This ache went deeper and would not so easily be medicated. And, I realized, it was not just this sudden, tragic passing that pained her, but regret. Regret over feelings that were never communicated, a message sent too late. It would be awhile before she would get over that.  
  
It struck me suddenly why she had come to this place. And not only because grief was an all too familiar presence here. The flow of life rushed incessantly back at the palace. Things needed to be done and demands needed to be met, and none of them would relent just because of Folken Fanel's passing. But here time stood still.   
  
I hesitated a moment, but truthfully, the decision was already made for me.  
  
I unfastened my cloak. Moving closer to Eries, I draped the warm velvet over her shoulders. Startled, she looked up with confusion in her eyes.  
  
"If you want to stay, I won't make you go. I'll let Lady Miriam know you are okay." Images of the Lady of the Castle inflicting various punishments upon poor me flashed briefly through my head. Why is it that messengers always end up taking the heat? "But try to get back before nightfall."  
  
For a moment, she stared wordlessly. Then, seemingly embarrassed, she lowered her gaze and murmured, "You're a good friend, Dryden. Thank you."  
  
"Remember that the next time you're mad at me. And you're welcome."  
  
Sans cloak, my body quickly chilled. My shirt was still clinging damply to me from my earlier exertion, and the brisk wind was not helping any. I moved quickly, eager to be out of there and into somewhere warmer.  
  
Before I exited the place, I turned to cast one last glance at the girl huddled in the cemetery.  
  
Whenever Indigo and her girly friends would twitter about love, it was always hearts and flowers, romance and kisses. It sounded pretty and simple, but I knew it was more complex than that. Love complicated our lives. The pursuit of it. Its presence or absence. How it consumed and cooled. I was well acquainted with the hurt feelings and resentment that arose when love was absent where it should flourish. But, the loss of even the promise of love brought its own pain.  
  
There was no happily ever after here for Eries. She had had it was in her grasp, but it had come to nought. Still, as I started the long walk back to the palace, I hoped Eries would be able to find it again.  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
whew! Finally posted!  
  
Hope you liked it-if you did , send a review!  
  
Next chapter is "Indigo." However, we have been having problems with content for this chapter-- "Marlene", "Sylphy" and "Millerna are already outlined, but we're not quite sure what to do with Indigo. If anyone has suggestions, we're willing to at least entertain them. :) 


	5. Age 14: Indigo part 1

Took a while to come up with a theme, but once we did, the story pretty much wrote itself.

By the way, Animejo, this story is our sequel to "Asturia" (although technically it is a prequel). I doubt we'll write more after this one.

Posted Dec 11, 2004

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"Millie, HOLD STILL!!!"

"But I'm bored. And my leg's falling asleep."

"You are the one who begged and begged to be painted."

"But it's taking so long!"

The girls' voices drifted clearly to me on the early afternoon breeze. It sounded like Indigo was getting ready to let Millerna have it. The high hedge bordering the sinuous path to the Blossom Gazebo in the Central Palace Gardens prevented me from seeing a thing, but I have been on the receiving end of Indigo's death-glares enough to know exactly what expression she was making.

However, it was Eries who spoke next. "Millie, you have to be patient. Not to mention, Indigo's putting a lot of effort into painting this picture. I know! How about I make things more fun by singing you a song?"

Reflexively, my hands clamped protectively over my ears. In my haste, I scattered my books pell mell all over the stone pathway. Fortunately, I was not a moment too soon.

Despite a collective and resounding "NO!" from the other girls, Eries burst forth into song. Various images came to mind. Fingernails on slate. Machinery in desperate need of oil and a tuneup. Tortured cats dying a long slow death.

The Second Princess of Asturia had her talents, but singing was NOT one of them.

And from the sound of it, she was purposely singing worse than usual. Millerna began wailing in protest, and soon Indigo's angry voice joined in. Even with several paces and shrubbery separating us, it made for a mind-splitting cacophony.

Fortunately, Marlene came to the rescue, cutting off Eries' performance and placating Millerna's restlessness with the offer of a fairy tale.

By the time I gathered up my scattered belongings and rounded the last bends of the winding path leading to the garden, the sisters had settled down. The sight that met my eyes was tranquil and picturesque. Butterflies fluttered and bees buzzed amongst the colorful blooms of the palace's most exquisite floral collection. Within a charming gazebo at the center of the garden were the three sisters becomingly decked out in lacy dresses. Marlene was elegance itself, seated on the gazebo bench, the low tones of her voice blending sweetly with the hum and twitter of the garden fauna. Millerna, captivated by her sister's storytelling, perched prettily next to her. Standing beside the two was Eries, smiling broadly, indulging in this rare moment of relaxation and ease. And at an easel a few paces from the gazebo with her back to me was Indigo. Her hair was coiled into a bun, and she was wearing a stained gray smock that rendered her nearly shapeless, a sharp contrast to the haute couture outfits she favored. She was working with intense concentration, plying her brush with precision and stopping every now and then to look up and squint at her subjects.It was a complete contrast to what the scene was probably like a few moments earlier.

Eries noticed me first and waved. "Hi Dryden!"

"Eries," snarled Indigo, "will you please keep still!?" Indigo whipped her head around to shoot me a dark look for good measure.

"Sorry," said Eries, once again assuming her role as statue. "What are you doing here, Dryden?"

I brandished a playbook into the air. "Uh, rehearsal? Like you said you wanted to do this today? Like now? Remember?"

Our new literature tutor was of the opinion that to fully understand the magic of Gaia's master playwrights their works had to be experienced as they were intended. In other words, he was making us do a play. Eries and I had been cast in the lead roles. Not by virtue of our theatrical abilities or our striking physical appearances (oh, good heavens, no!), but because we were the two students that had the best chance at memorizing all the lines.

I have a feeling that Master Lau was regretting his selections. Eries and I had no trouble learning our lines, but learning our roles was a completely different matter. Eries could not relate to her character at all; it was beyond her how someone would choose to write a story that revolved around such a "insipid, immoral, and idiotic" woman. If she ever came across such a person in real life, she would probably slap her and tell her to get a clue. That added to her lack of theatrical training made for an unconvincing performance. Eries' lines couldn't have been stiffer than if she had starched them. As for me, the problem was not so much getting into character as it was staying in character. The overly flowerly hyperboles and excessive emotional outbursts struck me as so ridiculously overdone as to be uproariously funny. I had yet to get through an entire scene without bursting into guffaws.

Master Lau hoped that additional practice time would set all to rights, but I seriously doubted that.

Eries slapped a hand to her head. "Ugh! I knew I forgot something!"

"STOP MOVING!" Indigo always was extra prickly when she was playing the artist.

"Sorry." Eries immediately snapped back into position. Millerna snickered to see her older sister chastised for a change.

"I'm really sorry, Dryden," Eries continued, taking care to maintain her pose. "Freid's convoy got delayed a second time so we're receiving them today instead of yesterday, so my schedule got all mixed up, and when I was rescheduling I guess I forgot about rehearsing today. I'm sorry."

Before I had a chance to respond, the princesses' governesses appeared. "Your Highnesses, it's time to go. The carriages are waiting to take you to the leviship port." Dame Clementine's unyielding tone commanded respect, and the three sisters instantly obeyed. Drill sergeants could probably take bossy lessons from that governess.

"Indigo, I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today," said Marlene, stepping out of the gazebo.

Indigo sighed. "Fine, fine. Run along, I know you have a monarch to meet," she said, waving away at them dismissively.

"Dryden,we'llpracticesoon.I'lltalktoyouafterdancepracticetomorrow.Ipromise.Okay?" Eries said breathlessly.

Dame Cora cleared her throat meaningfully. "Ladies."

Eries hurried to catch up with the rest of the group, and with a rustle and swish of skirts, the princesses and their guardians were gone.

I threw up my hands. "So much for theatrical endeavors. Well, I'll see you in dance class tomorrow, Indigo."

"Dryden, wait!" Indigo was struggling to dismantle her easel, a huge, cumbersome looking thing. "Since you obviously don't have anything else planned, why don't you be a gentleman and help me with this."

"Wish I could, Indigo, but it's Ruby and the Bazaar awaits," I said jauntily, heading for the exit.

"I'll give you a cookie. Chocolate macadamia."

My voice dripped contempt. "What do I look like, a child? Such tactics won't work on me anymore, Indigo." Rounding on her, I thrust three upraised fingers into her face. "No less than THREE cookies, plus cocoa, for my services!!!"

"Done," replied Indigo crisply. "Now, help me unscrew this."

As a companion and frequent visitor of the Aston children, I knew that Prince Nueva's family had rooms on the third floor of the Royal Family's residence that they used whenever they were in Palas. So I was confused when Indigo stopped me just as I was about to mount the marble stairway.

I craned my neck around the bulky wooden framework in my arms to give her a puzzled look. "Huh? But we're taking these back to your suite, right?"

"No, this all goes into my studio."

Studio?

Curious now, I followed her past guest rooms and parlors until we reached the preparation areas and storerooms of the servants' area. She finally stopped at one non-distinct wooden door just before the kitchen and opened it.

"This is--your studio?"

The room was brightly illuminated along the far wall by a row of windows. Running the entire length of an adjacent wall was a long sink with multiple faucets. Mixing pots, brushes of various shapes and sizes, tubes of paint, blocks of pigments, oils, crayons, and charcoal crowded for space on a number of wooden tables. Frames, rolls of canvas, dropcloths, and boxes were stacked in haphazard piles on the stone floor. A bookshelf crammed with drawing manuals and art books and magazines stood in a far corner. And all over the walls were paintings and drawings, dozens of them, ranging from postcard size pencil sketches to full-sized oils.

Indigo carefully set the partially finished painting of her cousins and her bag of supplies onto one of the tables. "This used to be the laundry for the residence. It hasn't been used in years so when I ran out of space in my room, I made it my own. Not bad, isn't it?" she demanded.

"Uh, yeah." I was still trying to fully take in the sight surrounding me. Though the subjects ranged from landscapes and seascapes to pictures of flowers and portraits of Indigo's friends and relatives, they were all remarkably true to life. "You made all of these?" I asked dumbfounded.

Indigo smirked. "Why yes, I did, Dryden Fassa," she said proudly.

It was no surprise to me that she was capable of such work. She and Eries were the best students in their fine arts classes. But I had always thought that Indigo, like Eries, considered arts an amusement to while away idle time. Apparently, it meant much more. "Wow, I guess you are capable of applying yourself to something, Indigo."

Indigo humphed at my half compliment, half jab at her academic performance. "Well, why don't YOU apply yourself right now by putting that easel away."

"Uh, sure," I said with a start. I had been so mesmerized by Indigo's art collection that I had been standing stock-still at the threshold. I stepped quickly into the room. "So where does this go?"

"There's a closet for my easels at the other end of the room," said Indigo, waving vaguely in the direction of the old laundry's storage closets and cabinets.

"Oh, I see." I negotiated carefully, squeezing past tables and stands of half-finished canvases. "That picture looks exactly like Haim and Trevor, by the way."

"Thank you. No... Dryden, not there, that's the broom closet, you nincompoop. The easel goes further down by the drawers."

I finally spotted the area she was talking about and headed towards it. Unfortunately, the easel got caught on a partially open cabinet door. Caught unawares, I, easel and all, went crashing to the floor.

Indigo's head shot up an alarm. "Dryden! What on Gaia are you doing?"

"It's OK! No harm done." I said, quickly disentangling myself from the wooden frame. I resisted the urge to kick the offending cabinet door shut. I reached out to close it--

--and noticed the canvas lying inside.

I blinked. It was strikingly different from all the other paintings in the room. Those pictures resembled their subjects with striking accuracy and detail. This, however, didn't resemble anything at all. Broad swatches of color streaked boldly upon the canvas. Intrigued, I pulled it out for a better look.

"You know, Dryden, your being rewarded is contingent upon you NOT breaking my stuff. So I would appreciate if you would try a little harder not to--AIEEEEEE!!!"

Indigo flew across the room more quickly than I imagined possible in her heavy skirts and smock. "Give it back! Dryden! Please! Don't look at it!"

I wasn't about to though. Holding the painting high above my head, I continued studying it. Indigo attempted to wrest the painting from my hands, but as I was much taller than her, it was child's play to keep it out of her grasp. "You know, Indigo, it's always a good idea to test out your colors before use them, but I'm surprised that you would waste so much canvas just for testing," I teased.

"Dryden, you FIEND! Give it back to me!" Indigo was on the brink of tears.

I knew better than to push this too far. I lowered my arms. Indigo snatched the painting and stomped a few paces away. Shoulders heaving, she clutched the painting tightly to her chest. She trembled with silent fury.

Lightly, I asked, "Indigo, would you like to tell me what I was looking at?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" she snapped.

"Oh. Well then, maybe you can tell me why your "nothing" seems to incorporate so many elements of Kerosuke Jin and A.F. Animejo's pieces."

Indigo turned around slowly. "Wh-what?"

"Of course, it lacks the texture that theirs do. But I'm assuming it was painted with regular oils, and the stuff the Daedalans use is thick enough almost to throw pottery with. But the combination of lines and colors is still dramatic."

"What-- ? How --? You know about Daedalan abstract art?" Indigo sputtered.

I sniffed indignantly. "It may surprise you to know that even though I can barely draw straight lines with a ruler, I can know about and appreciate the world of fine art. I am Cassia Fassa's son after all."

Indigo stared at me as if I had grown a second head. Moments passed as she deliberated... something. Finally she spoke.

"If you don't mind staying a little longer, I... have some other paintings. Would you take a look at them?"

An hour and seven abstract pieces of art later, I was starting to feel a little lightheaded.

"What about this one?" asked Indigo, putting forth another canvas for my critique.

"Woooaah, wait, wait, wait..." I lowered my head into my hands as a wave of dizziness passed over me.

"Is it that bad?" Indigo asked anxiously.

"No, no, it's not the painting," I said, holding my head. "The paint smell is just getting to me. Honestly, I don't know how you can stand to be in here very long without passing out."

"Oh! I'm sorry! I completely forgot to open the windows." Indigo hurried to throw open the glass panels. "I usually open them right when I come in, but I didn't expect us to stay here so long, and then I completely forgot," she explained as she grasped my arm firmly to help me stagger over to a stool by an open window.

I collapsed on the seat and leaned as far as I could out the window to take in several deep draughts. The fresh air was like the breath of God himself, and I was refreshed almost instantly. My senses considerably cleared, I rested my arms on the stone sill with my head cradled upon my forearms.

"Are you all right, Dryden?" asked Indigo worriedly as she seated herself beside me upon another stool.

"Jus' fine." I smiled to reassure her. "I am surprised though. Just how long have you been painting abstracts and using nouveau techniques?"

"After Lavender died."

I immediately regretted my question. "Oh."

Two years ago her family had suffered a double loss. Lady Miriam and Lavender had died within months of each other. Lady Miriam had been overcome by complications following a miscarriage, and Lavender had been killed in a riding accident. Enough time had passed such that we could reminisce freely about our memories of Lavender, but to speak about her death... it seemed territory too sensitive to tread upon.

Indigo, however, showed no reservations about broaching that topic. "It was really difficult, you know, losing her so suddenly. With Mother, at least we had a chance to say goodbye. But with Lavender... one day, I'm wishing her a good visit with our cousins in the country, and a few days later, she's dead. Just like that. No last words. Nothing."

Indigo leaned against the window frame and stared into the afternoon sky beyond. "Eries and Marlene, they were good to me. I wouldn't have been able to hold together without them. But there were those days it seemed nothing helped and Father was like a ghost himself."

Indeed, the loss had shattered Prince Nueva. Even now, he had yet to come to terms with the deaths of his beloved wife and favorite daughter. With her father in such a state, Indigo had had to be the strong one, and she had shown remarkable resilience. In fact, she had proven so capable and mature that it was easy to forget that she was still a child.

"Things felt so overwhelming, and I just felt like I had to scream or something--let it all out or else I would burst."

"And that's when I started to paint."

She smiled wanly. "It was weird at first, painting without a subject in front of me. But still, the subject was there," she said, tapping a finger over her heart. "It helped me--let me grieve. It let me release what I couldn't say in words. And that's when I learned that there's more to art than portraits and pretty pictures and that it's possible to make the invisible visible."

"And that's when I learned that I want to be--that I am an artist."

I glanced over my shoulder at the pictures we had been poring over the last hour. "Did you mean it when you said I was the first to see your abstracts?"

"Yes," she said, lowering her dark lashes. "You know how it is. I'm a Prince's daughter. Paintings are fine as long as they're sunny and happy and fluffy. But stuff like that--" She jerked a thumb back at the direction of her artwork, "that's much too crude and vulgar for a young, impressionable lady of class to look at, let alone paint. I didn't want criticism like that holding me back when I was exploring and experimenting with how I want to express myself."

She tilted her head to look at me. "When I saw you holding my painting, I was terrified. But now I'm glad. I guess I lucked out that you understand this sort of thing."

"Well, it gets a little boring when things are too straightforward, doesn't it? Modern pieces, most of them anyway, force me to think, and I guess that's why I'm intrigued by them," I replied. "It is a shame though. You obviously put so much effort into your work, and it doesn't even get to see the light of day."

"I want to change that though," she said with a determined set to her jaw.

"Do tell?"

"When I said I wanted to become an artist, I meant that. Not just as a hobby, but to REALLY be an artist. I..." Her hand gripped the window frame until her knuckles showed white. "I'm going to go to the Floresta Art Academy and study there. I'm going to learn painting and sculpture, and I'm going to come back to the capital and make an impact in the art circles."

I let out a low whistle. Those were high aspirations, especially for a girl. In the art world, women served primarily as patronesses and inspiration. The roles of artist and critic were almost exclusively dominated by males. But there was a fire in her eyes that was unmistakable. "Wow, and all this time, I thought that your goal was to marry someone strong, handsome, and rich who will make you look good as you dominate the Palas ball scene. My apologies."

She chuckled. "Actually, that's not too far off the mark. I thought I wanted that once. But now I know what I really want."

I grinned. "Well, congratulations. I hope to be able to haggle over your masterpieces in the Art Exchange someday."

Abruptly, Indigo rounded on me. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do."

She raised an eyebrow. "No, Dryden. Truthfully. Do you really mean that?"

I blew my breath out in exasperation. This was how much credibility I got for tormenting her over the years. "I know I'm not always straightforward with you, but I am being straightforward now. Honestly, I. Hope. You. Succeed."

"Then will you help me?" Indigo sprang to her feet and hurried to rummage through a drawer. She returned with three packets of paper, which she set before me.

Somewhat abashed, she said, "Actually... I've already applied to the Academy twice, and was rejected both times. Will you take a look at these? They're copies of my submittals. Maybe you can tell me if I'm doing something wrong so I can fix it before I submit my next application."

I reached out for the stacks of paper. "And when is that due?"

"In three weeks."

That wasn't that much time, but she was obviously serious about this. She was certainly more persistent than I ever gave her credit for, and I had to respect her for that. Plus, it was both gratifying and refreshing to have her seeking my advice for once. "All right, let's take a look." I untied the packet strings and scanned through the forms. "Wait, who's Maya Marie Torres?" I frowned at the unfamiliar name.

"That's my alias."

"Your what?!"

Indigo made a frustrated noise. "Look, I want to get into the Academy, but I want to get in because of my own merit and not because of whose daughter I happen to be."

"Besides," she added more softly, "I don't want Father to hear anything of it until everything's in place. He'll do anything to stop me for sure." Her hands wrung the fabric of her smock. "I love him, but I'm not going to let my dreams die because he can't get on with his own life."

I nodded. "I understand."

It didn't take very long for me to skim through the applications, the main parts of which consisted of three essays and four pencil sketches. I came to my final conclusion easily.

"Well?" asked Indigo eagerly.

"Well, I think it's obvious what the problem is," I said, slamming the pages onto a tabletop. "Your sketches are just fine, but your writing stinks. Honestly, Indigo, I'd be hard pressed to believe that you have had the privilege of the best writing tutors in Asturia with a writing sample like that. See this? Your grammar is atrocious. And this essay? I don't think you ever even answered the question! And here, you make absolutely no sense that all."

Crushed, Indigo stared at the pages in silence.

"Honestly, Indigo, if you were having so much trouble writing, I'm surprised you didn't go to Eries for help. She's really good at this sort of thing, and she can keep a secret. Plus, she is your cousin after all."

Indigo shook her head emphatically. "No. I KNOW Eries, and I know that she would give me some speech about how I am royalty, and how it's better for me to use my status to promote art and struggling artists rather than being an artist myself."

She was right. "You have a point there."

"So how can we fix this?" asked Indigo helplessly.

"Well, I can tell you now that I am not writing your essays for you--"

"I never asked you to," said Indigo curtly. "I told you I wanted to get in on the basis of my own work."

"Hmmmm..." I folded my arms and leaned back in my seat to sort through my thoughts. The only option that came to mind was multiple iterations of Indigo tackling these essays and me reviewing her writing. Even with my assistance, I doubted it would be enough to result in a satisfactory product.

"Stupid, stupid, STUPID ADMISSIONS PEOPLE!" raged Indigo, pounding her fists on the table. "Why do they have to have these stupid essays anyway?!"

"The Floresta Art Academy is an elite artistic institution," I explained gently, trying to get her to calm down. "They need to do this to make sure they get students of caliber that are not just skilled but have fresh ideas and creativity."

"I have ideas! I am creative! I just can't write it in an essay!" railed Indigo.

Suddenly an idea of bright as the sun flashed in my brain. "Maybe you don't have to..."

-----

As you can see, this is only half the story. We thought this would be a short 5000 word chpt, but we're only half done and already hit 4000 so we decided to post in sections again, esp. since our last posting was last summer. Ya, we've been out of it for a while, but when we saw Aerika S writing again (and frequently too!) we were inspired to continue with this. Hope to get the rest of the story up in a few weeks.

-RahS


	6. Age 14: Indigo part 2

Authors' note: Sorry this took so long... these teenagers just don't shut up. By the way, we don't know anything about art or the art world-- that's our excuse if you find any glaring errors on our depiction of the art world and Indigo as artist.

Date posted: January 18, 2005

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"Porter service!" I sang out.

"Dryden? Well, will wonders never cease." Indigo set down the shipping forms she was filling out. "You're early!"

"Our office is closed today," I said, stepping into the studio with my hand truck rattling behind me.

"Closed!? It's a Market Day! There's no way your family would close today."

"Not unless everyone was incapacitated." I grinned at Indigo's bewilderment. "Some old knight came in the other day and wanted a loan. He was going to put up five guymelefs for collateral. ANTIQUES. So of course, everyone wanted to see these goods. Just about all the Fassas in town went to the warehouse where the guymelefs were mothballed to check them out."

I snorted. "Mothballed was right. No one realized it, but they had tons. Tons of mothballs, that is. All rolled up in the battle capes. When they brought out the guymelefs for inspection, their capes unfurled and BLAM! Instant cloud of pulverized mothballs. It was like a smoke bomb went off in the warehouse or something. Everyone in there wound up with wheezes and hives. Father's itching so bad he's in an oatmeal bath up his neck, and I doubt he'll come out for a week."

"Wait," interrupted Indigo. "You were there--how come you're fine?"

My mouth twisted wryly. "Apparently there are benefits to being the office grunt. Uncle Larish forgot his satchelAGAIN. I swear he's coming down with dementia or something. And it had the forms we needed for the transfer so guess who was sent back to the office to fetch it. I left right before they started opening up the storage units so I was two blocks away when all the excitement happened. I don't think I've ever been so happy about being messenger boy before."

Indigo shook her head. "Dryden Fassa, your timing's so good it's almost scary."

"Isn't it? And that's what's going to have me hurtling to the peak of success!" I declared, striking a dramatic visionary's pose.

Indigo rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe you can hurl yourself and that hand truck over HERE so we can get this crate packed."

"As you wish." I maneuvered the hand truck carefully through the chaos of Indigo's studio to where a large empty crate lay upon the floor.

"Did the House Guards give you a hard time about bringing that in?" Indigo asked as she moved paint cans and bundles of mixing sticks out of my path.

"Nah," I replied, kicking coils of twine away from the hand truck wheels. "Last week, I brought a ram's horn trumpet and a double-necked bass lute as props for rehearsal with Eries, and they didn't even bat an eye. They'd probably let me in here with anything short of a Fanelian mammoth yak." Recently it seemed like I was spending all of my spare time at the Royal Family's Residence. When I wasn't rehearsing for the play with Eries, I was helping Indigo with her art school application under the pretense of sitting for a portrait for my mother's birthday. "Considering how much I've been coming here lately, I might as well be a permanent guest."

"Now THAT sounds like something that would be music to Meiden Fassa's ears."

I scowled. "Ugh. Puh--lease. Hearing about your crazy aspirations I'll tolerate. But not his. I get enough of that at home."

Indigo raised an elegant eyebrow. "If my aspirations are so crazy, why have you been helping me?"

"Because I've a soft spot for the clinically insane."

"You're such a dope." Indigo feigned throwing a punch at me, and I responded by dropping to the ground in mock agony. As usual, my performance was so ludicrous that within seconds we were dissolving into giggles.

If any of our agemates had seen us, the former antagonist and antagonizee, associating so easily like this, they would have been completely baffled. Considering our history, I myself would have guessed the chances of Father renouncing all worldly goods to become a monk were more likely than this comraderie springing up between me and Indigo.

"Come on," said Indigo after our laughter had subsided. "We've an art school application to prepare."

"Right." I sprang to my feet. Much of my time in Indigo's studio was spent as her slave, fetching various items from her shelves and cabinets because, as she put it, "you're tall and I'm not so you might as well put that ridiculous height to some good use." By now, I was so familiar with this room I knew exactly where to get her packing materials without asking.

Meanwhile, Indigo went to her storage area to retrieve three pieces of artwork: a collage, an oil painting, and a watercolor.

Her essay submission.

She had initially thought I was nuts, proposing to submit pictures in lieu of essays for the entrance questions. However, she quickly warmed up to the idea when I pointed out to her that if art was considered a medium of expression, why shouldn't she use it to present her answer, especially if that was her best means of communicating? It was gambling that the admissions committee would be open to the notion that art was a language unto itself, but if that idea was going to fly anywhere, it was going to be at Floresta Academy.

With an expertise gained from months of handling the delicate treasures in my family's warehouses, I had the paintings wrapped in padded cloths and snugly stowed amongst cushiony packing pellets in the crate in no time.

"Wait a second--can't forget this." Indigo reached over to place a small packet into the crate. It contained an explanation of her "essays" and the remainder of her application.

"No, definitely cannot forget that," I agreed, as I eyed the level of pellets in the crate. It was just shy of being full so I jogged off to get some more. Returning with the bundles under my arms, I noticed Indigo staring fixedly into the crate as if mesmerized.

I ripped the pellet bags open, emptying their contents into the crate. "Having second thoughts?" I teased. "There's still time to back out if you like."

Indigo shook her head emphatically. "No.... no, it's not that. I'm a little nervous about sending this, and what they'll say, but I want to make an impression, and even if it's a bad one, it's better than all of this languishing in a closet."

"So what is it then?"

Her expression softened. "It's just... I was thinking how I wish Lavender could share this, too."

I gulped. Me and my big mouth. I really needed to stop bumbling into girls' private thoughts like this. "Uh... I... you know she'd be proud of you. Your mother, too," I said hastily.

"I know, I know. But you know what the strange thing is?" She tilted her chin up to look at me. "If it weren't for the fact that I lost both of them like that, it never would have been in me to create anything like this," she said, gesturing towards the three paintings. "I would just have gone on painting shallow things, following shallow dreams, living a shallow life."

She dropped a hand into the crate and let her fingers rifle idly through the pellets. "As much as I would like to have both my art and my sister, I don't think that it would be possible. Isn't that pathetic?"

An awkward silence hung in the air between us. Frantically, I tried to come up with a response, something appropriate and profound, something to assuage the guilt that obviously burdened her. But nothing came, and all I could do was stare at her mutely.

Indigo lowered her dark eyes first. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all moody and depressing on you--"

"No, no, that's OK," I blurted. "You're being honest, and I-- don't mind that. I just wish I had some answers for you, and I don't. All I can do is listen."

"I wish I had the answers, too. Though there probably aren't any to be had. But I do appreciate you listening, Dryden."

"Any time." After a pause, I added, "You know, you really have changed, Indigo."

She gave me a small smile. "Have I now? I hope it's for the better."

I nodded vigorously. "Oh yes. The old Indigo never would have dreamed of leaving home, let alone orchestrating it in such a sneaky way. Old Indigo would be obsessing over how to best fit the mold of Asturia's haut monde instead of plotting how to overthrow the status quo of the art world. And the old Indigo wouldn't be having this conversation with Dryden Fassa right now. I think I like the new Indigo very much."

"Well, that's good, because old Indigo isn't coming back," replied Indigo with a laugh. "C'mon, we've a very important item to ship. So hop to it!"

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" I moved to heft the crate lid into place while Indigo finished completing shipping documentation.

Indeed Indigo had changed in many, many respects. Her life had been a charmed one; she had had just about everything a young girl could wish for: status, a loving family, health, beauty. Rudely awakening to the fact that even her life was not exempt from the ruthless whims of fate had been a harsh lesson. But it had opened her eyes to the precious and precarious nature of life.

She never told me that, not in so many words. But I could see it. It was barely noticeable when she was at lessons or making social appearances or performing other obligations, but it was all too obvious in the sanctuary of her studio. There she seemed a person possessed, the way she was so focused on her work, the way she strove to get the most out of every moment, out of her resources, out of herself.

It was as if she was trying to live a life full enough for both herself and the sister she had lost.

A distinct air of melancholy lingered about her; however, she was determined not to let it overwhelm her, determined not to succumb the way her father had. From what I could see, she would push past it. There would be scars, but she would be stronger for it.

Lavender would be proud, I'm sure.

"What?" Indigo's voice startled me out of my thoughts. Apparently, I had been staring at her without realizing it, and now she was glaring at me suspiciously.

"I was just thinking...."

"Oh?" Indigo's posture stiffened ever so slightly.

"Yeah. I think you're going to have an amazing legacy, Indigo."

Indigo blushed slightly at the unexpected compliment. However, her voice was sure and confident as she replied, "Thanks. I fully intend to."

------

I couldn't sleep.

Tired as I was, I should have fallen asleep even before my head hit the pillow. Tonight though, the gears of my mind were whirling madly away and showed no signs of slowing down.

With a frustrated growl, I sat upright in bed and finally gave up trying to push away those thoughts that had been gnawing away at my consciousness since early evening.

Today had started off blandly enough. Training at the family warehouse in the morning and a shift in the office in the afternoon. Everything had been routine until the message arrived.

"Meet me in the studio tonight."

The note was unsigned, but Indigo's graceful feminine script was unmistakable.

'Nette often commented that I had curiosity enough for three people. This could be a good thing, but today it nearly drove me insane. I was near positive it had to do with her art school application. However, her note did not give the slightest hint as to what the outcome was, and I had no recourse other than to wait till evening.

So it was about an eternity later that I sped over to her studio. She was waiting expectantly by the windows when I burst into the room. Wordlessly, she merely held out a letter with trembling hands.

I opened it. It was an acceptance letter. Indigo was going to Floresta!

I whooped and, grabbing Indigo's hands, jumped up and down, unable to contain my excitement. Indigo began laughing and crying at the same time. We rejoiced there together, doing a crazy jig haphazardly about the cluttered room until I inevitably tripped over my own feet and we collapsed into a giddy heap upon the stone floor.

Challenges still remained for Indigo. She had yet to tell her father and most likely would be forced to defy him in order to pursue her dream. And simply being accepted to Floresta did not ensure her anything. It was merely the first step in what most likely would be a long, arduous road.

However, at that moment, none of that mattered. Indigo was on her way, and that was reason enough to celebrate.

And that was why I couldn't sleep tonight.

Having known Indigo so long (since infancy, in fact), it was striking to see how far she had gone. She, like most of the girls in our social circle, had simply been drifting through life. Eries was the notable exception. The drive in Eries for excellence was remarkable. But even with Eries, she was merely following a role dictated before she had been born, bearing the burden of her rank with as much grace as possible.

But with Indigo, it was different. There was a passion in her that had never existed before. It both consumed and spurred her on. The spark of determination in her eyes, the loftiness of her goals, all this from discovering what she was meant to be and embracing it fully. It was as if her art brought her to life.

Sinking deeper into thought, I curled into a ball, resting my chin on my knees. Until now, Indigo had never made much of an impression on me. Certainly, she was an agemate, one of my favorite victims to tease and torment and, as we entered adolescence, someone to occasionally fantasize and have indecent thoughts about. But, discovering this other side of her, this hidden, ardent spirit was so compelling that I found myself caught up in her vision before I knew it. Indeed, Indigo had not had to persuade me or coerce me for my help at all. I had simply done it, willingly, with no strings attached (which, for me, was very unusual). Indigo's passion was infectious and seeing her jubliance today was as stirring as having my own dreams come to fruition.

That's when I realized it. I was jealous.

I slung my legs over the side of the bed and padded across the room to a bookshelf where I pulled out the old, red ledger my mother had given me so long ago. I set it upon my desk with a thump and lit the lamp.

Starting at page one, I proceeded to skim through the contents of my journal. It had been some time since I had looked at the earliest entries, and I marveled at the progression of my handwriting from painstaking childish script to the inelegant scrawl I now used when I wasn't obliged to be too tidy with my letters. My perusal did not take very long. Upon reaching the final entry, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

It was as I had suspected.

Mother had encouraged me to write for the purpose of clarifying the direction of my life, but all that lay within the pages were accounts of the inane antics of my childhood and carnal longings of my adolescence. Material for a comedy, perhaps, but certainly nothing of depth. The only thing even remotely profound was a rather wretchedly worded poem I had penned when Lavender died.

I frowned slightly as I contemplated the possibility that perhaps I was sleepwalking through life as much as the scatter brained girls that I liked to mock. Despite our obvious differences in the intellect and my propensity for juvenile pranks, I also for the most part was simply doing what people asked and expected of me, playing my role in society and preparing to be my father's heir. It was comfortable, and I had been too complacent to look beyond the roles pre-scripted for me to figure out if that was what I really wanted out of life. Seeing Indigo and the transformation that had taken place within her, I knew that I wanted to make that same kind of discovery for myself.

Abruptly, I straightened up in my seat. Undoubtedly, I would figure this out. After all, I was not brilliant for nothing. It was just a matter of realizing that there was a puzzle to be solved, and then the rest would eventually be worked out.

The worn, old journal was open to where I had written my last entry. Beyond that lay pages and pages of open space.

I picked up my pen and dipped it.

With purposeful strokes, I wrote:

"I want to find something to be passionate about the way Indigo has."

------------

"Wow! You can actually take two steps in here without crashing into something now."

"Ha ha, very funny. I'll have you know, there was nothing wrong with the way I had my room organized. It's just that you're such a humongous klutz that you kept knocking things over."

"Ooooh! You wound me! For that, I will exact retribution. I will proclaim all over town--no, throughout Asturia-- that Maya Marie Torres is actually Indigo Aston in disguise, and that I, Dryden Fassa, posed for her first nude!"

"DRYDEN!!!"

Indigo was undeniably furious now, and I was savoring every second of it. After all, tomorrow Indigo would be boarding a leviship for the mountain country, and it would be months before we would see each other again.

As anticipated, Prince Nueva was dismayed by Indigo's choice of vocation and relocation. Indigo, however, was resolute. Despite her father's protests and numerous attempts to dissuade her (using liberal amounts of guilt, I might add), she was firm in her decision. The fact that the Floresta Academy was offering her a full scholarship made it that much easier to kick off her fetters. In the end, Prince Nueva relented, if reluctantly and unhappily. These last few weeks leading up to her departure had been stormy, but the end was in sight.

Very few people knew of Indigo's true destination. Determined to be judged solely on the basis of her own talents and not her family name, she intended to maintain her alias as long as possible. So far as anyone else was concerned, Indigo Aston was leaving for an extended stay at a great-aunt's country estate in De Venus, and in a few days, instruction at the Floresta Art Academy would begin for a new class of students, including one Palasian named Maya Marie Torres.

Right now though, "Maya Marie" seemed intent on keeping abuse upon for me.

"Wow!" I exclaimed when she was forced to pause in her rant to take a breath. "With a tongue like that, no one would ever guess you were a genteel family's daughter."

Indigo fumed. "Dryden Fassa, you're the only person I know infuriating enough to turn a fond farewell into a good riddance. I have half a mind to take your thank you present and--"

"Present!? You've a present for me?" I squealed, dancing around her.

Indigo crossed her arms and shot me a dark look. "Yes. But right now, I'm seriously reconsidering. Give me one good reason why I should give it to you."

I threw out my chest. "Well, I AM your number one fan after all."

"If that's the case, I need a new fan base."

I deflated, crumpling to the floor. "Oh, you are too cru-u-e-e-l! Don't you know? Your art is my air, my food, my drink! It's what sustains me in this gray, dreary world. For you, I would do anything, swim the highest mountains, scale the widest plains, dive the--"

"Augh, Dryden!! Enough, enough! Spare me your theatrics, and I'll give it to you."

"YIPPEE!!!"

As I followed her to retrieve my gift, I found myself sneaking glances at her. Indigo had always been unusually pretty. But somehow, she seemed almost radiant now.

And it wasn't the kind of beauty to be brought on by jewels or cosmetics. I have seen her at fetes turned out in grand style, and she was nowhere as stunning then as she was now, in paint stained work garments and her hair askew in an untidy ponytail.

Or maybe it was just me, realizing how much I would miss her and meeting in this place.

I mean, I knew this was coming, had worked to bring about this event. However, it was only now, seeing the walls devoid of artwork and the room's usual hodgepodge of art supplies either boxed for shipment or neatly packed away that the reality of her leaving began sinking in .

Indigo stopped before one of the storage closets and pulled the doors open. "Here we go."

To my surprise, two objects carefully wrapped in storage blankets lay within. Worried about leaving her paintings in the old laundry for an extended period of time, Indigo, over the last several days, had either given away or moved (with my help) into her private rooms all of her art-- or so I thought.

She set the two bundles before me. "There. Something to remember me by."

I regarded them suspiciously. "This isn't some sort of hideous trick or--"

"Dryden, I'm not nearly that petty. Shut up and open your presents already."

Tentatively I pulled the covers off the first bundle. I was pleasantly surprised. "Hey, it's me."

"I figured that since we've been using the 'portrait sitting' as your alibi all this time, maybe I should actually make good on it," explained Indigo.

I held the portrait to the light to get a better look. It was as good as looking into a mirror. "This is great. My mother's going to love this." I grinned charismatically. "So, I really look this elegant and debonair, eh?" I drawled.

"No, not really. I just used some artistic license to smooth out your many rough edges."

I scowled at her. She smirked back and stuck her tongue out for good measure.

"ANY-way," I said, setting it aside. "Let's see what lies within Blanket No. 2." Eagerly, I reached for the second bundle and unwrapped it.

I gasped, momentarily dumbstruck by what met my eyes. Indigo seemed pleased by my reaction.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, "you really outdid yourself on this one. This is awesome!"

In my hands was a modern-styled painting. Against a stark white background was a riot of color-- pinwheels spinning, starbursts bursting, zigzags shooting, in bright primary hues. It was completely different from the first painting in every way, except one: the swirl of dancing hues formed a silhouette that matched the outline of my body in the portrait exactly.

My brows knitted. "I think I know what the inspiration of this particular piece is, though I'm almost afraid to ask."

"I call it ''The Mechanics of a Warped Mind' or 'Dryden Scheming.' Take your pick," Indigo said dryly.

I smiled broadly. "I think it's great! As brilliant and convoluted as the real thing. So what made you decide to paint this?"

"When I finished your portrait --how shall I say this?" Indigo cocked her head to one side. "I wasn't satisfied with it."

"Why not? It looks just like me."

"Yeah, on the outside. But the thing about it is that what's on the surface doesn't even begin to reflect what's beneath."

"But aren't we all a little like that?"

"Yes. But you're worse than most. Much worse. Anyway, the portrait just struck me as flat. Incomplete. So that's why I painted the second picture, to show what the portrait didn't."

"So the set combined captures the true essence of Dryden Fassa," I said proudly, holding up a painting in each hand.

"Something like that. And," she lowered her gaze, suddenly sheepish. "I realized something else when I started it. I... I've been incredibly selfish."

"What do you mean?" I asked puzzled.

"All this time, you've been helping me. When we've talked it's mainly about the things I want to accomplish and how to get me where I want to go. But it's all been about me. I don't think I've asked you once about what your dreams are."

"Oh, is that all?" I shrugged. "Indigo, it's not a big deal. I wanted to help you."

"It is a big deal. To me anyways."

I smiled, spreading my arms wide. "It's not too late. I'm standing here. Nothing stopping you."

Indigo hesitated only a moment before accepting my invitation. "All right. So... what is it that you want to get out of life, Dryden? What dreams lurk in that convoluted brain of yours?"

"Why, Indigo, I thought you'd never ask. Hmmmm... dreams, dreams." I pursed my lips, tapping a finger on my chin in a thoughtful gesture.

"You don't need to strain yourself trying to scrounge up something that's not there."

"Oh, I already know what I want," I stated confidently. Although in all honesty, if she had asked me a few weeks earlier, I would have had nothing to say. "And, in fact, I have two dreams, not just one. They're just not completely worked out yet."

"So out with it."

"My dream," I declared, "is to be part of something bigger than myself, to fulfill a role that only I and my amazing, brilliant intellect can fulfill."

Indigo was completely underwhelmed by my statement. "That's... very grand and --er-- more than a little vague."

"I told you it's still being worked out," I retorted, peeved.

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle you or anything," said Indigo placatingly. "I guess it's just that things are so clear to me about what I want that I assumed it was the same for you."

I sniffed dismissively. "Details. But don't you fret, it'll all get worked out." Although, considering the amount of journal pages I had filled so far trying to sort through the possibilities, it might take the equivalent of two more ledgers before I had something concrete. "If my brain can't figure it out, I'm not worthy of the glorious destiny so obviously awaiting me."

"R-i-i-ight. So what about the second dream?"

"The second--" I opened my mouth to say it, but looking at Indigo's expectant expression, I immediately backed out. "My second dream is a secret."

"Dryden! No fair!" Indigo whined.

"Is so fair. You shared with me one of yours, and I shared one of mine. We're even. Speaking of which," I said, steering the conversation to another topic, "I expect great things from you, Maya Marie. Especially after all the time and effort I've invested."

"I expect nothing less of myself," replied Indigo stoutly.

"Write me? It's the least you can do."

"You'll be the fifth person I write to."

"Fifth!"

"Sorry, you'll have to take a back seat to my father and cousins."

I clenched my chest as though heartbroken. "Her No. 1 fan, and she puts me in fifth place. Oh, it's so hard to idolize a genius."

Indigo clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You'll survive. After all, you've my artwork and the knowledge that they will one day become priceless heirlooms to keep you going. Oh! Is it that late already?" Without us realizing it, the afternoon sun had slipped away, leaving the long shadows of twilight in its wake.

Indigo glanced at her timepiece. "I should go. Father and I are going to the Kesters tonight for dinner. Lord and Lady Kester wanted to see me one more time before I 'leave for De Venus.'" The corner of her mouth quirked. "I wonder what they would say if they knew I was leaving for Floresta for the next four years and not just a season at my aunt's."

Four years. Four years suddenly seemed an impossibly long time.

She stood, but instead of leaving, she looked about the room to drink in the sight of the space that she had spent so many hours in. "I'm really going to miss this place."

I felt exactly the same. But instead, I said, "The Academy will be even better than this, I'm sure. And besides, you're taking a lot of your tools with you."

"I know. But... it won't be the same. You know what I mean?"

I did. "Yeah."

Indigo squared her shoulders and said, "Well, I guess when it comes down to it, all I can really take with me is memories of this place."

She took a step towards the door. At that moment, a sense of urgency erupted inside me, a kind of dread at knowing something special would be irretrievably gone once we left this room. And that made me bold.

"Actually..."

She stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"There is one thing I'd like to take from here before you go--"

"Whatever it is, it's yours." Indigo's smile shone bright as sunbeams.

"Well then..."

I bent down and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss. The faintest brushing of my lips on hers. But every detail of that moment was stamped indelibly into memory. The smell of canvas oils mingled with the subtle scent of verbena in her hair, the pressure of my hand on her shoulder, the warmth and softness of her mouth, the soaring of my heart at this most fleeting of touches.

It was over so quickly that Indigo did not have a chance to react. Her eyes wide and disconcerted, she stared at me as if she wasn't quite certain of what just happened. "Dryden?" she whispered, her voice tremulous.

I was serious now, all hints of pretense gone. "The second thing I dream of, that I want to happen in my life, is that I want to fall in love. Wildly, madly, passionately in love. I want it with every thread and fiber of my being. And when I'm with you... I feel like I'm standing on the brink of something amazing."

Indigo took a faltering step back and looked away. "Dryden, I..."

"Indigo, I'm not asking for anything," I reassured her gently. "I'm not asking for an answer or promise. I want you to leave this place and make your dreams come true. But when you come back, if you come back, I hope that we'll be friends again. And, maybe, maybe we can become more than what we are now?"

Indigo's voice was pained. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because... what you made me feel is beautiful--even if you don't return it. And I wanted you to know."

"I... I should go." Indigo all but fled for the door.

"Indigo!" My shout stopped her in her tracks. "Indigo, don't forget your promise. You'll write to me, won't you?"

Without turning around, Indigo nodded curtly and retreated out of the room.

I stared at the exit for several moments after she left. It was undeniably the most awkward parting I had ever experienced, and all that because I decided not to keep my big mouth shut.

But I didn't regret it.

-------

Despite any embarrassment my confession might have caused, Indigo did keep her promise to me. About two weeks later, a postcard arrived from the mountain country. On one side was a painstaking depiction of the art academy campus and the surrounding scenery hand-drawn in pen and ink. When I turned it over to read the message on the other side, my eyes were met by only a single word: "Here."

I smiled. Apparently she would let her drawings do the talking for her. I tucked the postcard within my journal pages and happily awaited her next message.

But it never came.

About a month later, word came to the royal family at Palas that Indigo had fallen ill. The sudden change in climate had brought on a bad case of pneumonia. Not long after that, she died.

I cried.

It was a long time before I could open my journal again.

-----

Next up: Marlene.


	7. Age 15: Marlene part 1

Oy, has it been a year already? Sorry for the delay!

Posted:January 7, 2006

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_It's not my fault._

These words ran over and over in my mind like rabbits on a sugar high as I contemplated the floorboards above my head. Just beyond where I lay, footsteps beat a rapid staccato on the stone garden path. This was Eries' third circuit about the garden, and she was still on the rampage. However, it was just a matter of waiting for her to go away since there was no way she'd guess to look here. In fact, I had impressed myself by managing to squeeze my long frame into such a tight hiding place.

I sighed, flipping onto my stomach. Might as well get comfortable. Cramped as it was beneath the garden gazebo, it was much better than the alternative.

_It's not my fault._ And it really wasn't, when you looked about it logically and systematically. For starters, it was not as if I was the one who had botched things up with Marlene's wedding present. When the First Princess' engagement to the Duke of Freid was announced a scant two weeks ago, the entire court, including Father, had gone into a frenzy. As with all special occasions, the royal wedding was yet another excuse to outdo one another, and everything, from flowery congratulatory toasts to the type of hat you sported at the ceremony, was grounds for competition. Marlene's present was something I expected Father to delegate to Mother. However, Father deemed it as an object of weighty enough importance to require his own personal attention.

Things started off well enough. As he was among the first to catch wind of the impending wedding, he was able to secure the services of the most talented jeweler in Palas, a master craftsman who had recently immigrated from Chingre. The man was to make two sets of fine gem studded jewelry for the wedding couple. An ordinary jeweler would have required nearly a month to create what Father demanded. However, this jeweler lived up his reputation, delivering the stunning sets to our door three days before the wedding -- plenty of time for Father to deliver the gifts early and possibly attain some serious bragging rights should the princess elect to sport them on her wedding day.

There was just one problem.

Father wanted the jewelry personalized with the names of the princess and duke. As the man was accustomed only with the names of the Chingrean aristocracy, he asked Father to write down the unfamiliar words on the purchase order form. Unfortunately, Father had been a little sloppy with the ink, and the man had taken an ink blot on the page as an extra letter. So while there was nothing wrong with the jewelry in and of themselves and the engraved letters were flawless and quite charming, I doubted that Marlene was changing her name any time soon to "Marleneoerisha Aston."

From the way Father screamed I thought he was going to have a stroke. The jeweler was hastened back to his workshop amid a cloud of curses and threats along with Father's top rat-man assistant and a few geckos to make sure he finished on time and didn't make any more mistakes. To everyone's relief, the man finished this morning, the day before Marlene's departure. While the Chingrean was more than adequately compensated for his efforts, I doubted the harried man was over eager for more of Father's business anytime soon.

Now, Father had made a big deal about how he was going to give the princess her present as he was head of our family (and wanted his face associated with the extravagant gift). However, that was when the gift was scheduled to be completed on time and before he split the pants of his new suit wide open this morning. As he harried our beleaguered seamstress to have his clothes ready for Marlene's farewell banquet tonight, he was quite open to other options. Mother had already overbooked herself for a number of high profile public events today so he found himself turning to me.

I was not in the mood to be delivery boy. In fact, I did not want to be anywhere near the palace. The marketplace was buzzing with outsiders in town for the celebration, and I wanted to lose myself in those crowds instead of getting caught up in a swirl of wedding fripperies for a girl who barely tolerated me. But father commanded and so, against my will, I went.

The scene at the palace redefined the limits of chaos, and the royal family's residence was no exception. The flow of crates and boxes containing Marlene's considerable earthly possessions going out the door was substantially hampered by an erratic but equally endless flow of last-minute wedding gift deliveries trying to make their way into the manse. Complicating the situation was a fully loaded cart that had overturned on the brick driveway. The strewn contents had turned the place into an obstacle course. At least, I knew where to go, and what I was carrying was compact. I felt sorry for a troop of bewildered looking chinchilla-men, probably some rich merchant's flunkies, trying to maneuver several immense jars of exclusive J. Bunyard vintage through the press.

As wriggled and squeezed my way through, I kept on the lookout for someone to receive my delivery. Some discouraged porters had simply left their brightly wrapped deliveries on the lawn and planter beds surrounding the king's residence. While it was attempting to do likewise, what I carried literally was worth a prince's ransom. Father had very specifically instructed (ordered) me to leave the jewels with either a member of the royal family, one of their governesses, or the head butler. I immediately eliminated Norwey as an option, as he was frantically redirecting traffic and performing damage control at the scene of the unfortunate cart.

Spotting a handmaid who had paused to tighten the laces on her shoe, I asked her where I might find the princesses or their governesses. She informed me that Princess Marlene had already withdrawn to her rooms to prepare for tonight's banquet and that the royal governesses were assisting her. However, Princess Eries was inventorying wedding gifts in the Tulip Room, one of the larger drawing rooms. "But, I would have a care if I was you, Master Dryden," she added in a hushed voice. "The Lady's in a mood today."

Eries? In a mood? Marlene was the moody one, but Eries? Well, it wasn't impossible, but she never let her temper go so much so that the servants would notice. This I had to see.

I immediately retracted that wish the instant I entered the Tulip Room. The atmosphere was so frosty, it was like stepping into an icehouse. While the other areas of the palace practically roared with the noise of people speaking all at once, the Tulip Room was eerily quiet. Several nervous looking women milled about like sheep. I recognized them as members of Marlene's court. The ladies in waiting were trying to look busy while attempting to ignore the source of the tension in the room, namely an exchange between one irate princess and one rather petrified looking attendant.

Eries was not yelling. However, she was demonstrating that volume was not a requisite component of conveying deadly intent. I mean, I've seen her mad before (many, many, many times, actually) but this was on a totally different scale. It was comparable to the difference between an armed footsoldier and a fully loaded floating fortress.

I was floored. I knew that Eries had an exceedingly low opinion of her sister's attendants, especially since their incompetence usually resulted in more work for Eries, but she restrained herself from making disparaging comments. In public anyway. However, something had burst that dam wide open. Her customary tact was gone. Eries was really letting her have it. While it was beneath her to stoop to the arena of vulgar language, if words could wound, that woman would have been a bloody pulp by now.

I quickly gathered that there was a direct connection between the overturned cart in the driveway, the woman before her, and Princess Millerna, who hovered nearby with an expression somewhere in between annoyance and guilt on her face.

"You're dismissed." That last word hissed through the room like a blade.

The distraught woman made a feeble attempt at a curtsy and fled, almost crashing into me in her haste to leave. Eries' icy blue eyes followed her retreat to alight on me. "Oh hello, Dryden. What can I do for you?"

Wow. Scary. She had gone from snarling to cloying as quickly as if someone had thrown a switch. However, there was in an unnatural brightness in her eyes, one I associated with the soon-to-be-unhinged, and it told me louder than words to STAY AWAY.

"Ah... you ladies seem to be really busy right now so I'll just come back later --"

"No, no trouble at all. You're here to deliver something for Marlene, right?" She stepped forward, effectively cutting off my escape. There was nothing to do but to hand over the goods, which I did with a fervent prayer that the exchange would be quick and easy and she wouldn't get all crazy on me as well.

She opened the velvet bag and gave the contents a cursory glance. "Quintara," she barked.

A petite, dark-haired lady in waiting with a ledger scurried forward. "Yes, Princess Eries," she squeaked.

"Two sets of jewelry from Meiden Fassa's house. Gold."

"Yes, my Lady." The attendant hastily scribbled down the entry into her book as Eries tossed the jewelry like an afterthought onto a table cluttered with an assortment of other gifts.

So much for Father's bid to impress the Astons. Not that I cared. I just wanted to get out of there, pronto.

Unfortunately, before I could excuse myself, Eries spoke, her words coming out in a rush. "Dryden, since you're here, would you mind doing me a little favor? Be a dear, and keep an eye on Millerna for me. I've had a little trouble with her last chaperone. Just for a couple hours until the banquet starts, I'm sure you won't mind. And have a care with her hair and clothes, won't you?"

The look of dismay on Millerna's face mirrored my own sentiments exactly. We both protested at once.

"Sister, I --"

"Listen, you can't be --"

The glare she leveled at us could have flattened a tower. All objections were instantly snuffed.

"Sure. No problem," I amended. "We'll see you in a little bit.C'mon, squirt." I grabbed Millerna's hand, and we beat a hasty retreat out the door.

"And please stay inside the house, you two," she called, waving after us with a sweet smile.

Eries had been acting a bit high strung at lessons last week, but we had attributed that to her sister's upcoming wedding and the summer heat. But her behavior just then was -- it was inexplicable. I wonder if perhaps she had fallen victim to the "cycles" I sometimes heard my male cousins and uncles complaining about. From what I could gather from their mutterings, females were subject to some sort of hormonal imbalance that caused their moods to sour inexplicably on a monthly basis. I could only guess that my level-headed friend had been overcome by that phenomena.

I dragged Millerna into the sea of humanity crowding the halls. Eries was forever complaining about how Millerna would wander off to people watch so I figured that the best way to keep Millerna occupied for two hours was to find a spot in one of the upper balconies and stay there. Simple and effective -- right?

Unfortunately, getting to the upper stories of the palace proved to be easier said than done. As we waded into the foyer, a contingent of cooks brandishing large metal tubs with steaming contents came barreling through from the kitchen.

"Make way! Make way!"

"Hot stuff coming through!"

"Have a care!"

One of them passed uncomfortably close with his scalding hot cauldron. I backed up abruptly to avoid getting burned and lost my grip on Millerna's grubby little hand. I did not panic though. As congested as it was, she could not get far very fast.

As soon as the chef stampede had passed, I scanned the area for her. Fortunately, I was tall, and Millerna and her flashy dress stood out like a gleaming blonde and pink beacon in the crowd. I pinpointed her almost instantly at a window seat down the hall.

Unfortunately, that scant amount of time was all she needed to get into trouble.

"C'mon, Millerna. Let's go upstairs. It's way too -- what have you done to your hair!" My voice cracked embarrassingly as I realized her velvet ribbon had come undone, and all her carefully arranged curls had come cascading down.

"Huh? What?" Millerna looked up at me innocently. It was then that I noticed she was covered with tiny, mewling felines. She had two in her lap, one in her hands, and another on her shoulder, who was swatting at Millerna 's loosened locks.

"What are you doing with those cats?" I shrieked loudly enough to turn more than a few heads.

Millerna looked at me as if I were retarded. "This is Rad and her kittens." Rad, situated in a large open wicker basket held by an indulgent-looking elderly attendant seated beside Millerna, meowed.

"Sister's taking them with her to Freid," she said with a hint of sorrow in her voice. "So I have to say goodbye, don't I, precious?" She held the long-haired kitten in her hands close to nuzzle it. Meanwhile, the kitten on her shoulder turned its attentions the trim on Millerna's sleeve while its siblings clawed at her bodice in an effort to get her attention.

"... have a care with her hair and clothes..."

Five minutes, and I had already failed my assignment.

"Okay, g'bye then!"

"Dryden!" But I turned a deaf ear to her protests as I scooped up all the little hairballs and deposited them with their mother into the startled matron's basket. "Have a nice life in Freid!" I said, picking up an indignant Millerna around the middle and retreating down the hallway.

I kicked open the door to the first room I came to and ducked inside, slamming the door behind me. I plunked Millerna down and held her tight by the shoulders as I did a quick once over of her clothes. I prayed that they were still presentable and had not been mauled beyond repair.

"Dryden, what is your problem!" Her temper flamed as bright as her clothes.

I halted in my inspection to gape at her. "What is MY problem? Hello? What's YOUR problem? Or have you already forgotten that your sister is going to KILL us if I don't bring you back in pristine condition?"

"I'm fine."

"You're covered in five shades of cat hair, and your hair is ruined. I'd hardly call that fine."

"It's Fanelian silk," she said haughtily. "It'll brush right off." She swiped at her skirt to prove her point. Her efforts were surprisingly successful.

"Yeah, well, what about your hair?"

"I'll be fine," she snapped, exasperated. "I'm not a baby. I can fix my own hair." Having made that declaration, she marched up to a mirror hanging on the wall to prove herself right.

Something clicked in my mind. That mirror... that wall... those windows... My gut froze.

Indigo's studio. I had been so busy fighting with Millerna that I had walked in here without realizing it. Or maybe, my subconscious had unwittingly led me to this once familiar place.

The room looked untouched. Save for a layer of dust blanketing the room, everything was as she had left it, as if anticipating her return.

I had thought I was over it. I had grieved for her, mourned with my friends and in solitude, and then went on with my life. It was what she had done when her loved ones had passed on, and it was what I knew she wanted us to do. And I thought that I had shed so many tears already that I couldn't hurt anymore.

I guess I was wrong.

Something inside ached. It was like a trick joint that echoed with the pain of an old injury when the weather turned. This room, which had once been so full of color, activity, and ideas, was bereft without her. The place seemed to cry out for her return, for her to bring it back to life again, and my heart resonated with that same yearning.

Those feelings swelled, and I clamped them down, forcing myself numb lest I lose control.

"Dryden!" I blinked. Millerna was glaring at me with a petulant look on her face. From her tone, I could tell that she had been saying my name repeatedly in order to get my attention.

"What?" I said, quickly forcing myself back to the present.

She pointed at her head. Oh yes, her hair. To my surprise, she had done an admirable job of retying the fussy pink bow on her hair. Her hairdo was nowhere as near as artfully arranged as before, but it was passable for tonight's gala. At least, I hoped so.

"Uh... not bad," I admitted.

She smirked. "Told you I could." She stuck out her tongue for good measure.

Whatever. "Okay. Fine. You did. I was wrong. Now let's go and find a clothesbrush... HEY! I'm talking to you!" This girl had no attention span whatsoever. She had already tripped off to investigate the sinks at the near side of the room.

"Wow, how weird -- look, Dryden ! It's all different colors in there." She pointed at the stains left by Indigo 's paints on the stone surface.

"Millerna, let's go already!" I grabbed her arm to drag her out of the room.

She jerked herself out of my grip. "What's your problem?"

"My problem is you!" I snapped, matching her vehemence. "And I don't understand whyIhave to be after a girl to keep her clothes clean. It's dusty and dirty in here, and the sooner we go somewhere else, the less chance of you messing up your clothes." Well, that was part of it. The other part was that it felt -- wrong for Millerna to be wandering here so blithely, ignorant of this place's significance. It was like desecrating something sacred.

That moment, something flared in me. It was so hot and bitter, I could almost taste it on my tongue.

Why? Why did Indigo have to be dead? Why her? She was beautiful. She had dreams. She was going to make things happen. And now she was gone, her life extinguished by a season in an unfamiliar climate. What kind of meaningless end was that?

And in her place, I was saddled currently (and potentially for the rest of my life if Father had his way) with the company of this intolerable little shrew. This self-centered, spoiled brat, who through no virtue of her own was going to one day rule the kingdom. How was that fair that she was alive, and Indigo was not?

"Why should I?" she retorted. "Why should I do anything you say? After all, I'm the Crown Princess, and one day you're going have to do everything I say."

"Fine, little Miss Crown Princess. So Big Sister Eries will be just fine with you poking all over this place in your banquet clothes?" Millerna flinched a bit at that.

I regarded her sourly. "You know, your attitude is going to cause the entire kingdom a lot trouble someday. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that it's your fault that your sister was so pissed at Lady Silke earlier."

Millerna raised her eyebrows at my use of the word "pissed," but answered me anyway. "She had it coming."

"Yeah, right," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "That kind of attitude is going to make you a whole heap of friends."

"All I did was go to look at one of the horses outside. It's not like I was running away or anything. She was the one who freaked out about it. Anyone with half a brain knows that horses will spook if you come running in front of them flapping and yelling like a maniac."

So that was what had happened. Somehow it didn't surprise me. "Someone just got publicly humiliated and dismissed because you couldn't control yourself. Don't you feel badly at all about that? Think about what you've done to her!"

"Why is everyone yelling at me today! You should feel sorry for me. After all, my big sister's leaving me tomorrow, and I'll never see her again."

Her attempt for my sympathy might have worked, except…

"Besides," she added in a smug tone, "you wouldn't want your father finding out that you've been yelling at me. You HAVE to be nice to me no matter what."

That did it. I lost it. My temper blew clear to Atlantis.

This next part, admittedly, probably was a little bit my fault.

I told her…honestly, now, I can't remember even half the things I said, but it was ugly. An ugly, awful, devastating torrent that rampaged out of control.

She glared back defiantly, but only for a moment. Her chin trembled, and her tough front completely crumpled. Her wide lavender eyes filled with tears, but I didn't care.

It hurt. I hurt. And I wanted everyone else to hurt, too.

Millerna, too shocked and upset to counter my tirade, did the only thing she could think of doing. She fled.

I let her go. I was far too incensed to care about Eries' charge anymore.

That was, until I heard the crash a split second later.

I rushed to the door. A horrifying sight met my eyes. Dyed from head to toe in a dark, burgundy fluid was Millerna, too stunned even to cry out. Sprawled on the floor next to her was a partially drenched, but equally shocked looking chinchilla-man. Porcelain shards, the remnants of his vino jar, were strewn everywhere. He and his equally tongue-tied chinchilla compatriots stared mutely at the expensive liquid flowing down the parquet floor as if watching his very livelihood wash away.

The second princess of Asturia, standing at the head of their number, was not so reticent.

"DRY-DEN FAS-SA…"

So I did what any other self-respecting gentleman in the kingdom would do in my situation.

I ran, jumping out the window into the courtyard.

_It's not my fault._

But as I listened to Eries fuming from my vantage point, I doubted that she cared.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

We know…. This chpt is called "Marlene," but she hasn't made an appearance yet. Never fear—she'll be in the next installment—we just felt like we needed to post something since it's been so long since this story was updated.

RahS


	8. Age 15: Marlene part 2

Date posted: January 21, 2006

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_Where am I?_

Completely disoriented, I pushed myself up only to smack the top of my skull into something hard. I rebounded so quickly that I didn't even have a chance to cry out before my face hit dirt.

"Oh yes... gazebo..." I recalled, spitting bits of loam out of my mouth.

For several minutes, I simply lay there, waiting for the throbbing in my head to subside -- and for the tightness around my heart to ease.

I had been dreaming. But it had been so vivid -- it was difficult to stomach that it had not been real. Though my collision with the overhead beam had jolted me fully awake, the dream still clung to me, like the cobwebs that held fast to the gazebo latticework.

Or perhaps, it was I that was clinging to the wisps of the dream before they completely dispersed into oblivion.

Because I had dreamed of Indigo.

In that dreamscape, I had been wandering, aimless and alone. The place I traversed was unfamiliar and enshrouded in fog. Then the mist lifted, and I saw her.

Her back was turned to me, but it was her, I knew, without a doubt. I tried to run to her, but my body refused to respond. My limbs had turned to lead, and my feet were as mired in quicksand. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn't move. I tried to shout her name, but all that came out of my throat was a pathetic gasp.

Then she turned. She looked so beautiful, her dark hair whipping around her wildly. She gazed upon me so pityingly that I was taken aback. Smiling sadly, she called to me, but the wind blew so ferociously it carried her words away. I could see her lips moving, but I could not hear anything. Desperate to know what she was saying, I screamed out to her again, but she turned around and disappeared into the mist.

In anguish, I sprang after her --

-- and awoke.

"What was it she wanted to tell me?" I wondered, absently rubbing the sore spot on my head. The logical part of me knew it was not really her. It was a dream. Just a dream. But still... I wanted so much to meet with her again that it didn't matter that it was nothing more than the vaporous illusions of my subconscious.

It occurred to me that it was the first time I had dreamed of her since she died. Come to think of it, it was the first I had dreamed of any girl since then. And it was very, very different than the other dreams I had had of her. For starters, those dreams had involved a lot of groping, the removal of clothing, heavy breathing, and --er -- yeah, like that.

It was almost embarrassing to think that I had ever regarded of her so shallowly.

I had come to care for Indigo much more profoundly than I realized, much more than I had admitted to her or to myself. Once our studio collaborations began, my interest in other girls evaporated. And now that she was gone, I could not look at a girl without thinking about her.

It wasn't that I was wallowing in the depths of despair. I was fine. Really. I was functioning -- eating, breathing, laughing, working, learning, enjoying, annoying. But I didn't have the same free and easy attitude towards girls as before. Certainly, I admired and even flirted -- but it was different. I'd find myself comparing them to Indigo, wondering if they could measure up to her in looks, wits, and fun. And...

I was scared.

If I had to be completely realistic, Indigo was my first kiss, but that was it. To this day, I really don't know how she felt about me. But still, it hurt so badly when she had died. And if it had been like this with her, how much worse would it be to lose a girlfriend? A lover? A wife? After such a tragic experience, I didn't know if I dared risk opening myself up to potentially even greater pain.

Completely melancholy now, I recalled how I had told Indigo my aspirations of love, of falling in love. My little speech seemed so naïve now. Love was dangerous, a much more dicey business than I had ever imagined.

Great. Here I was, a red-blooded youth of 15, and I was thinking like a jaded, cynical 50-year-old. Though I suspected I was not the only teenager in Palas with such a gloomy outlook. Despite his gallant façade, Indigo's death had deeply affected Trevor also. We never talked about it per se, but I could tell. And Eries had lost Prince Folken as well.

Speaking of Eries, she was probably gone by now.

It was dark, very dark. The cool of the evening had already set in. Choirs of crickets were in full swing. "Guess I slept a while," I thought as my attempt to move my legs resulted in a unpleasant pins and needles sensation.

As I waited for my numb limbs to awake, I hoped that, in my absence, an even greater fiasco had befallen Eries. Not that I wished ill upon my friend, but it would be nice for her to be so mad at someone else that she forgot she was mad at me.

I sighed. Even if she wasn't mad, I was going to get it from my father. Yelling at Millerna was a very, very, very BAD thing. The only good thing was that he and Eries would be obliged to not kill me at Marlene's party.

Speaking of which, there was no way I was fit to go to the gala in my current dirtied and bedraggled state. I was going to have to go home and scrounge up something else to wear. The dampness seeping in through my shirt front and suede breeches was a good indication that my clothes were beyond saving. My poofy sleeves had long since deflated. So much for Anita's pleated linen masterpiece.

Ironic how my attempts to keep Millerna tidy had rendered me unpresentable.

Grunting and shuffling, I inched my way out. Sufficient moonlight filtered in between the wooden slats and panels for me to make it to the exit without whacking my skull again. I poked my head and arms through the narrow opening like a turtle popping out of its shell and glanced at my timepiece --

-- and realized I was doomed.

I sagged onto the ground. I had been asleep nearly ten hours. The all-important banquet, the culmination of all the week's celebrations was undoubtably over. In fact, the cleanup crew had probably already finished and turned in for the night.

I was so dead.

Perhaps it was just better to stay put.

I was startled out of these delightful thoughts by a noise. Footsteps. And they were coming closer.

Alarmed, I hastily retreated beneath the gazebo. I really did not want to have to explain myself to a potentially irate guard. However, as I withdrew, I caught a glimpse of the approaching individual. To my great confusion, it wasn't a guard at all.

It was Marlene.

"What is she doing here?" I wondered, as she walked up the steps and seated herself upon the gazebo bench. Perhaps that was odd coming from me considering I was the one out of place here. The courtyard and garden enclosed within the walls of the royal family's residence were reserved for the private enjoyment of the king and his family, and this particular area with its flowery gazebo and adjacent pond had been designated Marlene's very own. However, it just seemed very strange that Marlene should be wandering here at such a late hour on the eve of her wedding and departure from home.

Insomnia from wedding jitters, perhaps?

Before I could speculate further, there was a swoosh and a soft thud, the sound of someone dropping stealthily onto the grass. Marlene was on her feet in an instant.

"My love --"

"Oh darling --"

There was a rustling of skirts and hurried footsteps as Marlene and the newcomer rushed towards each other. Even without the benefit of a view, it did not take too much imagination to figure out what to the pair above me was doing.

The tips of my ears flamed so hotly, I thought they'd spontaneously combust.

I couldn't believe it. Marlene was getting married tomorrow, and she was fooling around with some guy! In the heart of the palace no less!

Either the man was stupid or he had a death wish. I had seen Duke Mahad dal Freid a number of times this past week, and he was NOT an individual to be trifled with.

Ever curious, I wondered who this guy was. I didn't recognize his voice, but I didn't dare look. I doubted that a man bold enough to be sneaking about the palace grounds for a late night meeting with the very much engaged First Princess would have any qualms about slitting the throat of an unexpected, eavesdropping merchant's son and tossing his carcass into the nearest canal.

The very thought chilled me to the bone, and I scarcely dared to breathe.

"I was so worried." I heard Marlene say. "I was so afraid something happened... that you wouldn't be able to come --"

"Nothing could have kept me away," he replied, his voice smooth and rich as dark chocolate. "My love for you is too strong for that, Princess."

""Don't call me that!" Marlene said sharply. "Not you. Don't call me that, especially not tonight of all nights. I wish I had never been born a princess. Then I... I..." She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"Darling..."

"Tonight I am Marlene. Just Marlene."

"Marlene..."

"My name, say my name again..."

"Oh, Marlene, I love you so."

I had been completely deceived. While her marriage was arranged, and rather hastily at that, I had thought that Marlene had been thrilled with her father's selection for her husband. Aston definitely could have done much worse than the Duke. Freid was still a man in his prime. His features did not fit the classical description of Asturian beauty, but he was strikingly handsome in an exotic kind of way. His looks and demeanor had certainly turned the heads of several of the court ladies. And he was absolutely besotted with Marlene. Couldn't take his eyes off her and was extremely attentive as well. And Marlene for her part reciprocated his feelings. At least she had acted like she was completely taken by him -- the way she smiled at him and hung to his arm at the celebrations in their honor.

I guess I had much to learn about women, I thought glumly.

I listened as Marlene's companion made comforting noises. When she had calmed somewhat, he whispered, "It's not too late. There's still time. I... I could still take you away... from all this." There was a whimpering noise, and then, "But, why not?" Hurt and confusion were plain in his voice.

"No," Marlene choked out. She was crying in earnest now. "It's impossible."

"No, it's not," he insisted gently. "We can get away from here. Where Asturia and Freid would never touch us. I can protect you --"

His assurances only served to intensify Marlene's distress. "Hush, hush, my love. Don't you know? You're all I want, all I need. I don't care about my father's estate or his name or the title I bear. I would gladly throw it away for you. I would do anything for you."

"Then let me go."

Those four softly uttered words, and all his entreaties evaporated into agonized silence.

"I can't do that to you." Marlene's voice was shaky, but her resolve was firm. "I know my father, and I know what the Duke is capable of. They would destroy you. And that would destroy me. I couldn't bear that. It would be a thousand times worse to lose you that way --"

"But --" he pleaded.

"No. No. Please. Let us talk no more of this. Just... hold me."

He sighed. "As you wish. I can deny you nothing, my love." His voice was heavy with defeat. "I'm sorry to have caused you so much pain," he murmured.

"I am not. I don't regret anything, darling. You have shown me love -- and freedom. The only thing I regret is that I did not realize -- or acted -- sooner."

"I will always love you, Marlene."

"And I you," she replied, her voice tremulous with emotion. "No matter how far I am, no matter whom I am forced to be with, my heart is yours always. I will not, I cannot ever forget you."

"Nor I you."

The pair fell silent. For several moments, there were only the heady scent of summer blossoms, the breeze rustling the foliage above, and the twitter and chirp of nocturnal creatures. Just like some scene out of a romance novel. Marlene certainly was acting the part of the tragic heroine, and it was astounding for me to hear her like this. She was a far cry from the temperamental and demanding girl I knew. Then again, I had never really inspired Marlene to much more than irritation.

It felt very extremely wrong for me to be hearing all of this. How was it that I kept inadvertently stumbling into these girls' personal business? And this was so much worse than that time in Tanglewood or with Eries in the cemetery. Aside from the fact that it was a profoundly and embarrassingly intimate conversation, what they were doing bordered on treason and I didn't want to hear much more.

Unfortunately, it was about to get worse.

"Darling." Marlene 's voice was so husky I scarcely recognized it.

"What is it, love?"

"Love me tonight."

_I did NOT just hear that._

He hesitated. "Marlene..."

_Maybe he does have some sense in him. After all, no matter how tantalizing the prospect of sleeping with Marlene may be, that WOULD be treason._

"Please do not deny me this. Please."

When he failed to respond, she begged, "I need you. Yesterday, I was a princess of Asturia, tomorrow I'll be the Duchess of Freid, but tonight... tonight I am my own, and I want you to have me, all of me, body and soul. I want to feel your heartbeat against mine... just once more, love me again..."

_She couldn't mean…They couldn't have…_

The significance of her words hit me like a load of boulders, and my brain shattered.

All this was much too surreal to be happening. I dug my fingernails into my palm to see if I could wake from what seemed a disturbingly bizarre dream.

Unfortunately, truth was proving to be much stranger than fiction.

When Marlene's lover (!), finally spoke, his voice was deadly serious. "Marlene, I dare not risk us being discovered again. And…I am concerned about your sister's….that she might…"

"Eries will tell no one."

_Eries knows!_ The broken remains of my consciousness exploded into pulverized dust.

"Are you absolutely certain of this? I've seen how she's looked at you…and me… since that night she saw... "

"I know," Marlene replied quietly. Her voice was tinged with guilt. "She's been avoiding me since the betrothal. But I talked with her tonight. She... does not approve. However," she added staunchly, "she will not betray me. She says she understands, but... I don't think she really does. Nevertheless, she will not have me publicly shamed."

Something clicked and suddenly, Eries' weird behaviour made sense.

"She is on my side and watching for us even now," Marlene continued. "Everyone thinks I am with her in her rooms tonight. No one will miss me before daybreak. So please... let me love you with all that I am this one last time."

"Your wish is ever my command, beloved."

The crunch of footsteps, a rustling of skirts, and they were gone.

Mind still reeling from the night's revelations, I remained beneath the gazebo long after they had left. What I had learned -- it had the potential to destroy two lives and send repercussions rippling through two nations. No wonder this week had brought out the worst in Eries.

Oddly enough, it was not so much Marlene that my heart went out to, but her fiancé. Duke Mahad was being played for a fool. Here was a man clearly in love, eager and willing to do all in his power to win her affections -- and his efforts

had not moved her in the slightest. Was it so easy to be hoodwinked in this arena called love? If he ever found that he'd been cuckolded...

And what would I do if I were at his situation?

Wryly, I mused that that certainly would not be a concern should my father somehow force me into marrying Millerna. I could pretty much expect open animosity from her as wife. I doubted that his plans would ever come to fruition though. I had taken Nette's advice to heart all those years ago, and had come up with enough tricks up my sleeve such that I was quite confident in my ability to finagle a marriage with whomever I chose.

The question was, would I choose rightly?

Was it more tragic to lose your beloved or to realize that the love you thought was genuine was in actuality a farce?

Reciprocated, lasting, authentic love. It was inherently desired by all of us. And something that the three in that triangle would be denied by fate and circumstance.

I wondered if I would fare better.

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Announcement:

Good news and bad news. First the good news. hS has received an invitation from Anime on DVD to become a reviewer for their manga section! (Woohoo! will review for free manga!). Please come check her out at

www. animeondvd. com/reviews2/ manga

Herreviewer's namewill be Sakura Q. Eries (can you tell who my favorite anime character is?)

Okay, bad news. Because of this new commitment and more constraints on Ron's time, our fanfiction writing will have to be suspended. So, unfortunately, we will not be able to finish the story the way that we had hoped (we are shy two LONG chapters in our outline). We will try, however, to do a brief conclusion for Dryden's Story.


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